AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It was another greeting card view—a white wooden church with a black shingled roof and steeple, evergreen wreaths sporting big red bows on the doors, and a manger scene in the yard. Picture-perfect. Molly had chosen a wonderful venue for the wedding. But, as happened so often lately, when Emma thought about her little girl getting married, her throat tightened, and she blinked back tears.
“I hope I make it through this, Mozart,” she said, then she circled the block and continued up Fifth toward a quaint wooden bridge that spanned a frozen creek. Beyond it stood a beautifully carved wooden sign that readangel’s rest.
Angel’s Rest Healing Center and Spa was a large estate with numerous structures, including landscaped hot-spring pools whose steaming surfaces looked warm and inviting. The estate's centerpiece was a multistory Victorian mansion that sat proudly at the mountain's base. Cavanaugh House, Emma knew, since it was listed on the wedding invitation.What a grand old mansion.
She pulled her car around the circular drive and parked beneath the Porte-cochere. Switching off her engine, she took a deep, bracing breath, picked up her purse and Mozart’s carrier, and opened the door.
The cold mountain air smelled like Christmas.
The door opened, and an older woman wearing red velvet trimmed in white fur stood smiling and waving and saying, “Welcome to Angel’s Rest.”
Never mind Julie Andrews andThe Sound of Music. This was Rosemary Clooney inWhite Christmas—just a little older. “What a great dress,” Emma said as she stepped inside.
“Thank you.” The lovely woman beamed like lights on a Christmas tree. “Tonight is the holiday party for our quilting group, the Patchwork Angels. Attending in costume just puts me right in the party spirit. I’m Celeste Blessing, and you must be dear Molly’s mother.”
“Yes. I’m Emma Stapleton.”
“If you’ll allow me to briefly go fangirl, I saw you perform at Carnegie Hall three years ago. I must say that your interpretation of Tchaikovsky brought tears to my eyes.”
“Thank you.” Emma smiled at the compliment, then glanced cautiously around. When she didn’t see Jared, she relaxed a little bit.
“Molly and Mason have gone snowmobiling with some other young people in town. She told me your husband is due to arrive around five. She’s reserved our private parlor for a family meal at seven. We’ll be serving tasting portions of the menu you have chosen for the reception. Is that acceptable to you?”
“That will be wonderful.” It was almost four now. That gave her three hours. Emma felt as if she’d just been awarded a temporary stay of execution, and the fact that she felt that way annoyed her. It was high time she and Jared found a way to interact. This avoidance campaign they’d engaged in for so long was childish.
She was shown to a lovely feminine room decorated in cabbage roses and antique furniture, including a graceful wooden rocker that sat before a fireplace furnished with electric logs. A quilt done in shades of ivory and white lay draped across the chair’s back. She tipped the teenage boy who brought up her luggage, then unpacked and surrendered to the lure of the rocker with Mozart snoozing happily in her lap.
Emma slept and dreamed of being lost in a field of alfalfa.
* * *
For the fifth time in as many minutes, Jared second-guessed his decision to wear a suit to this family dinner. Molly would likely show up in jeans, and Emma . . . well . . . the old Emma would have worn a dress, but he didn’t have a clue what this Emma would do. Better to be overdressed than underdressed, right? This was no different than a meeting with bankers. Best not to give the opposition the upper hand in any area.
Staring at his reflection in the freestanding full-length mirror, he didn’t see a six-foot-four rancher with green eyes and brown hair going gray at the temples. He saw a grim-faced man wearing the tie his daughter had given him last Christmas who needed to stop tugging at his collar and badly wanted a scotch.
The fact that he was tense about tonight annoyed him.
The fact that he looked forward to seeing Emma again worried him.
Their marriage was over. Done. Finished.
She traveled the world with an Italian gigolo—her “manager.” Jared would be hanged if he’d forgive her of that.
Not that she’d ever shown any inclination to forgive him.
Jared wasn’t without blame for their trouble. He shared responsibility for what happened, and he’d never once tried to deny that. He’d spent the past few years trying to atone and live with it. Trying to live withhimself—with the ugly words that Emma had shouted at him that terrible night playing through his mind in an unending loop.
It’s your fault, Jared. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t introduced Frank to horse racing or if you’d paid attention to the books. You and those stupid breeders, those stupid horses.
Grimly, Jared gave his tie one last straightening nudge, then turned away from the mirror and checked the mantel clock. Five till seven. It was time.
He exited his room and made his way downstairs. The parlor door was closed, with a sign that readprivate partyhanging from a clip on the door frame. He drew a deep breath, knocked, then opened the door.
Molly stood beside the fireplace, where a real fire burned, and upon seeing her, his breath caught.She’s all grown up, the image of her mother at that age.
Molly wore a classic black sheath dress and the family heirloom pearls he’d given her for college graduation. The natural red highlights in her dark auburn hair glistened in the firelight, and her expression beamed with pleasure when she saw him. “Daddy!”
She was across the room and in his arms in a heartbeat. Jared closed his eyes and enjoyed the experience, missing those years when this was a daily occurrence. “Hello, beautiful.”
