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“Peas?”
Julia smiled gently and touched Alice’s head. “In a little while, okay?”
Alice’s whole body slumped in disappointment. She popped a thumb in her mouth and started turning the pages.
Julia turned to him then.
“You’re amazing,” he said softly.
“Thanks.”
He heard the throatiness in her voice and knew how much his compliment meant to her.
She was close enough to kiss him right now, and he wanted her to.
He moved away from her slightly, as if distance could provide protection.
She noticed the movement. Of course she did.
“What happened to you, Max?”
He should have been surprised by the question, but he wasn’t. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I think it does.”
He was near enough now to see the tiny mole on her throat. Her cinnamon-scented breath fluttered against his chin. “Love,” he said simply.
“Yeah,” she said at last. “It’ll knock the shit out of you, that’s for sure. Why didn’t you go home for Christmas?”
“You.”
Her gaze searched his, as if looking deep for answers. She gave him a sad, knowing smile, and he wondered what it was she thought she knew. “How about a game of cards, Max?” she finally said.
“Cards?” He couldn’t help laughing.
She smiled. “It’s one of those things a man and a woman can do out of bed.”
“No wonder I’m confused.”
She laughed. “Go get the cards, Alice.”
Alice looked up. “Jewlee win?”
“That’s right, honey. Jewlee’s gonna kick Dr. Max’s ass.”
FOR THE FIRST CHRISTMAS IN RECENT MEMORY THIS HOUSE HAD BECOME a home again. There was nothing like a child to make Christmas a gala event. Not that Alice had understood it, of course.
Ellie and Julia had both wakened at the crack of dawn and encouraged their sleepy girl to go downstairs.
The presents had been unwrapped in the morning one at a time—according to family tradition—and then carefully restacked under the tree. Except for Alice’s. She loved her packages, had carried them around all day and hugged them to her narrow little chest. Any attempts at unwrapping them had led to hysterics.
So the toys inside remained hidden. The packages themselves were her gifts.
In truth, Ellie hated to leave, but going to see Cal on Christmas was one of her few traditions. She’d never missed a year. That was how things were done in Rain Valley. Neighbors visited each other on holidays, usually staying just long enough to share a glass of wine or a mug of hot chocolate. For all his childhood, Cal had come to the Cates’ house for Christmas, where he’d found a stocking with his name on it tacked to the mantel and a pile of gifts under the tree. No one ever said why it was that way, but each of them knew. For Cal, who had lived alone with his wreck of a dad, Christmas only came to other addresses.
That tradition had remained in place for as long as Brenda and Big Tom Cates were alive. Year after year Cal bundled up his wife and daughters and brought them across the field and over the river for dinner. Even after Ellie’s mom died and the tradition began to weaken, Cal kept Christmas and the Cates together in his mind.
When Dad died, a subtle shift had begun. For a few years Cal and Lisa had invited Ellie for dinner at their house. They’d tried to form a new tradition, but nothing quite jelled. Lisa cooked the “wrong” foods and put on the “wrong” music. It no longer felt like Christmas to Ellie; she was an outsider somehow.
