Be Mine at Christmas(7)
Author: Brenda Novak

Kayla removed her parka and Angela shrugged out of her trench coat. “Thank you. It looks like the weather’s clearing up,” she commented.

A short, slightly plump woman with hair the same color as the little boy—and lots more freckles—stepped out of the kitchen. “I think we’ll have a white Christmas. They’re expecting a big storm next week.”

She sounded relieved, and Angela guessed that a white Christmas was very important to her. Judging by the many decorations adorning the yard outside and the two Christmas trees—one in the living room and one in the adjoining dining area—she took her holidays seriously.

“Angela, this is my wife, Peggy,” Lewis said from the coat closet.

“Nice to meet you.” Angela didn’t recognize her, but she seemed friendly.

“And this—” he turned and grabbed the boy who’d answered the door, pushing him to the floor in a playful tussle “—is Derek.”

The boy squealed and giggled as he struggled to get free, and Lewis finally released him. “He’s the youngest of the kids. The older two are with their grandma tonight.”

“I wanted to go, too,” Derek sulked.

“Grandma takes gingerbread houses to a professional level,” Peggy confided, her voice a half whisper. “According to her, he’s not old enough.”

Hearing this, Derek climbed to his feet and folded his arms. “I can do it!”

“Next year, honey,” she promised and returned to the kitchen.

“Have a seat.” Lewis motioned to an antique floral couch and matching chair. The living room resembled a Victorian parlor. “Matt isn’t here yet, but he’ll be along soon. Can I get you a drink?”

Angela accepted a glass of wine; Kayla asked for a soda. “Are Matt’s parents still in town?” Angela asked.

“Yeah. But they’ve upgraded the store. It’s now called Virginia City Treasures and Gifts and is located closer to Taylor Street.”

Angela opened her mouth to ask about the rest of Matt’s family. As much as she believed Betty had done the right thing in taking Stephanie away when she had, the decision affected many more people than just Matt. Would they be angry to learn they had a twelve-year-old granddaughter/niece? In a way, Angela felt they had a right to know. And yet—

A knock interrupted her thoughts. Tensing, she waited for Lewis to answer the door. But he didn’t bother. He was setting the table, so he merely barked out, “Come in!”

Matt strode into the room as though he’d done it a thousand times. And he probably had. He and Lewis had been friends forever.

“Hi, Matt,” Peggy called from the kitchen.

“Uncle Matt!” Derek charged him and threw his arms around his knees.

“Whoa, hold on, buddy. Let me set this pie down,” Matt said.

The mention of pie brought Peggy hurrying into the living room. “Did you say pie? What kind?”

“What kind do you think?” he teased. “Your favorite.”

“Pumpkin?”

“Of course.”

She rose up on her toes to give him a hug. He put one arm around her and used the other hand to pat the head of the boy who was squeezing his leg. It was very apparent that he loved these people. But when his eyes met Angela’s curious gaze, she could tell those warm feelings didn’t extend to everyone.

Clearing her throat, she looked away.

“Can I help?” he asked Peggy.

“Yes.” She waved him toward the couch. “You can sit down and entertain our guests while I finish up. Lewis will pour you a glass of wine in a minute.”

Instinctively, Angela slid over to allow him more room, but it wasn’t necessary. He sat at the far end and focused on Kayla.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Twelve.”

His eyebrows went up, and he glanced subtly at Angela. She knew he had to be doing the math, thinking she’d gotten pregnant awfully young. But he didn’t say anything. He let Derek climb into his lap and addressed Kayla once again. “Do you like school?”

Angela sat there, rigid with tension, as father and daughter conversed. She’d been crazy to bring Kayla here, she decided. The truth suddenly seemed so obvious. She could see the similarities in their faces—the slightly square shape to Kayla’s chin, the high cheekbones, the broad forehead.

But Matt didn’t seem at all suspicious. He did seem reluctant to get to know her, and even more reluctant to like her, but he had no qualms about Kayla. Of course, she’d said Kayla was her daughter, they’d bumped into each other during a chance meeting, and Lewis had instigated this dinner. It wasn’t as if they’d appeared on his doorstep or rung him up out of the blue.

“Not really,” Kayla said, answering his question about whether she liked school.

“Why not?”

“It’s—” her eyes shifted momentarily to Angela “—it can be tough to fit in.”

“For someone as pretty as you?”

She blushed. “Sometimes,” she hedged, and Angela guessed she didn’t want to appear too pathetic.

“It’s tough for everyone sometimes,” he said, even though, as far as Angela could remember, it had never been very tough for him. He’d always been one of the most popular boys in school. “What do you want for Christmas?” he asked.

“I’d like to find my dad.”

Angela nearly gasped at Kayla’s answer. She’d never heard Kayla admit this to anyone else. Until she’d read that essay, she hadn’t realized how deeply Kayla missed having a father.

But the words were already out, and there was no mistaking Matt’s surprise. “He’s not part of your life?”

She shook her head. “No, he—he left us a long time ago. He said he loved my mom, and he promised her they’d be together forever. But then he couldn’t handle a crying baby in the house and changing diapers and all that.” She wrinkled her nose, basking in Matt’s attention. “So he walked out, and left my mom to raise me by herself.”

Angela had stiffened at “he left us a long time ago.” Kayla had never been told any such thing. This had to be some kind of fantasy, something she figured would be more acceptable than the reality.

Angela wanted to stop her before she could embellish any further but couldn’t say anything in front of Matt. A correction might cause Kayla to make some remark that would give them away. She was the one who’d lied first, when she’d introduced Kayla as her daughter.