Christmas With Carlie. Julianna MorrisЧитать онлайн книгу.
going over Beth and Annie’s schoolwork. It might help them get closer. Yet there wasn’t any point arguing with Luke once he’d made up his mind. Maybe she should cancel her trip altogether, but if there was the smallest chance she could do something to help her brother or nieces, she wanted to try.
“Okay. Anything else I should pack?” she asked.
“You may need your ski clothes. They’re also offering a sledding hill when the weather is cold enough. I’ve arranged for skates and sleds to be sent by express courier.”
“Surely the facility has sleds to go with the hill.”
“Probably, but I’m more comfortable choosing ones I know are well constructed. We’ll donate them when we leave.”
“Beth and Annie might want to keep theirs.”
“I can always get new sleds if needed.”
Nicole hesitated. “What I meant is that they might prefer keeping their sleds for sentimental reasons. I realize you and, uh, that you aren’t sentimental yourself, but your daughters might be.” She’d almost said “you and Erika,” only to catch herself. She never knew whether to talk about her sister-in-law or keep her mouth shut.
While Nicole had been fond of Erika, her sister-in-law hadn’t been easy to know, probably because they’d had so little in common. Luke’s wife had grown up in a military household, moving whenever her father was reassigned. From earliest childhood, she’d wanted to follow the family tradition of serving in the military. She’d been brilliant, courageous and dynamic. But having a conversation with her had always stymied Nicole.
“I don’t see any point in being sentimental,” Luke retorted, dragging Nicole’s thoughts to the present.
“It isn’t a crime.”
“Are you trying to start something with me, sister dear?”
Nicole made a face. She wasn’t bold or outspoken and it was rare that she “started” something with anybody, even her brother. On the other hand, this was something she felt strongly about. “No, but I have to defend Beth and Annie’s right to be themselves. They aren’t your clones. They’re little girls.”
A long silence followed until she heard a heavy exhalation through the receiver. “Is that what you think I’ve been doing—trying to make my daughters be like me?”
“I don’t know, but please don’t throw those sleds out before talking to them.”
Nicole was actually more worried about Luke trying to make Beth and Annie into clones of Erika. She couldn’t be sure that was happening, but she also didn’t understand why her nieces were still struggling so desperately with their mother’s death. Fourteen months wasn’t long, but they were young and Erika had been stationed away from Austin for most of their lives. Sad to say, they couldn’t have known her that well.
“If you think it’s important, I’ll ask before I do anything,” Luke said. “I’ve sent the jet back to Austin, so it’s ready for you to fly out. Let the captain know what time you want to take off and he’ll notify the limousine service when to meet the plane.”
“Maybe I should fly commercial and rent a car.”
“Don’t be crazy. This is much more convenient.”
It was convenient, which was part of the problem. Letting her brother smooth the bumps in the road was very easy. Some people didn’t realize how generous he could be. Nicole knew all too well... She also figured she ought to weather more of those bumps without his help.
“I’ll be there soon, at any rate,” she murmured. “Give Beth and Annie my love.”
“Will do. Glad you’re feeling better.”
After saying goodbye, Nicole looked around her condominium. While it was attractive, she had to admit there wasn’t a whole lot of individuality except for the shelves of old movies in her spare room. There hadn’t been any point getting fond of belongings as a kid. Her parents’ roving lifestyle hadn’t lent itself to saving stuffed animals and dolls or other childhood mementos.
Nonetheless, she was a closet sentimentalist. She adored lemon drops because they reminded her of summer. Daffodils were also special. Her father had given her a bouquet of sixteen perfectly made sugar daffodil blossoms for her Sweet Sixteen birthday party. They’d been so pretty she couldn’t bear to eat them, though it hadn’t taken long before they’d crumbled into piles of yellow and green sugar.
Luke hadn’t been kidding about his own lack of sentimentality. He loved his family, but Nicole doubted he’d kept private mementos of Erika, such as receipts from restaurants they’d visited or his boutonniere from the wedding. He and Erika had been alike in that way—too practical to invest emotional value in an inanimate object. After returning from her honeymoon, Erika had even donated her wedding gown to be used by military brides.
Nicole, on the other hand, had carefully dried the roses from her maid of honor bouquet and hung her dress in a protective garment bag in the back of her spare closet. She’d done it reasoning that Luke and her sister-in-law might have children someday who’d want a few keepsakes.
But no matter what she’d told herself, the truth was that the dress and dried flowers were reminders of a day when her brother had looked perfectly happy for the first time in his life.
* * *
CARLIE MANAGED TO slip away from the concert hall fairly soon, though not before she’d seen how differently Annie and Beth each approached making their paper chains.
Beth’s were wild, gaudy with glitter, made with any color that took her fancy. Annie’s color choices were green, red and white in a creative arrangement that included larger and smaller rings. Her sister had pestered her, declaring it needed more color and glitter, so Annie had begun carefully applying a dot of silver glitter to each ring, probably to stop her sister’s nagging.
But she hadn’t looked happy.
Around Poppy Gold, groups of Victorian-garbed carolers were out in force, singing carols such as “Good King Wenceslas” and “Jingle Bells.” It added a lovely mood to the day, spiced by the fragrance of hot cider and other tasty snacks at the treat kiosks.
Poppy Gold didn’t need guests to actually do the decorating, which meant they were all free to enjoy the benefits of kickoff day. Everyone would also receive one of the specialty gift ornaments, which were being placed in their suites.
“Carlie, I need to check with you about something,” called a voice.
She turned and smiled at Gideon Cartwright, the new veterinarian in Glimmer Creek. He’d volunteered to coordinate the farm animals and help set up the living nativity scene they were having every Friday and Saturday night until Christmas. It would be staged in front of the small white church that served as Poppy Gold’s travelers’ chapel.
“What can I do for you, Gideon?”
“I just got a call. Thaddeus Baxter won’t be able to bring his sheep tonight—he’s got pneumonia. I’m going to see if any of my other clients have sheep they’re willing to loan for the evening.”
Carlie was instantly concerned. They’d lost Aunt Meredith from pneumonia. “I hope Thad will be okay.”
“It’s just a mild case and his wife tells me this has convinced him to get the pneumonia vaccine,” Gideon assured her quickly. “But I’m not sure how long it will take to make the calls to other livestock owners in the area and I’m supposed to start my health exams of the VC cats at 10:00 a.m. I haven’t been able to locate either Liam or Tessa to let them know I’ll be late.”
Traditionally Dr. Chevalier had come to the Victorian Cat to give the resident felines their quarterly health checkups, but he’d retired earlier that year. When Gideon had bought the practice, he’d continued the custom, saying it was easier for everybody to spend a morning at the VC examining the cats one after another than