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Emma saw a large wooden door sitting on wheeled tracks that passed in front of a shadowed opening in the mountainside. “I admit I find it a bit strange that Celeste would use a mountain cave for storage. What’s wrong with the basement?”
“Maybe it’s full,” Jared replied, shrugging. He switched on his flashlight. “She’s a strange sort of woman. I like her, though.”
“Me, too.”
Jared led the way into the cave, with Emma following a little closer than before. She wasn’t claustrophobic or anything. She just wasn’t one hundred percent sure that they weren’t invading something’s home. Her husband must have had a similar thought because he shined the flashlight around the chamber.
The natural cave was larger than she had expected. Better equipped, too, she realized, when he flipped a switch and electric lights lit the space. The far wall was boarded up, anddanger—mine entrance—no admittancesigns hung on either side of a stack of metal shelving filled with boxes and baskets and . . . mistletoe. Lots and lots of mistletoe.
“It’s everywhere,” Jared said, staring above him.
Emma followed the path of his gaze to a latticework of rafters hung with dozens of sprigs of mistletoe, wrapped and hanging by strips of red velvet ribbon. “Somebody went to a lot of work.”
“How much of this do you think she’ll want?”
“Knowing Molly, most of it. I think we should—” Emma broke off abruptly when she spied the tray holding a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and an envelope with the wordsMom and Dadpenned across the front in Molly’s handwriting. “Uh-oh.”
“What?”
Before she could answer, a loud screeching sound filled the chamber, and the natural light disappeared. Emma’s and Jared’s heads whipped toward the entrance . . . where the door was slamming shut.
“What the hell?” Jared exclaimed. In two steps, he was at the door, yanking back on the handle . . . to no avail.
At that point, Emma knew for sure. This had been one whole elaborate ruse. She marched over to the envelope and grabbed it. “That little sneak.”
Jared’s stare fastened on the paper. “She set us up, didn’t she?”
Emma scanned the sheet. “I’m going to wring her neck.”
“What does it say?”
She read aloud: “‘Dear Mom and Dad. One of my first memories of Christmas is of the two of you locking lips beneath the mistletoe, so I know that you are not unaware of this particular tradition. What you might not know is a little piece of mistletoe history I discovered. You’ve always made me proud of my Scandinavian heritage, but never more so than now. Mom, Dad, are you aware that in Scandinavia, mistletoe was considered to be a plant of peace, and that under the mistletoe, enemies could declare a truce, and . . .’” Emma glanced up and met Jared’s gaze. “She underlinedandthree times. ‘And underneath the mistletoe, warring spouses can kiss and make up. It’s true. I read it onWikipedia.’”
Jared groaned aloud.
Emma continued reading. “‘So, Mom and Dad, aka Stubborn and Intractable, here’s your chance. You are under the mistletoe, and neither of you has to surrender. All you have to do is call a truce and talk. You haven’t talked to each other—really talked—in years. Don’t you think it’s time you did? That’s the real gift you can give me for Christmas. Do that, and I’ll know, and you’ll know that divorce truly is the right step for you. Do this, Mom and Dad, if not for yourselves, then for me. Please? Take advantage of this Christmas season and the message we all heard at the Christmas pageant the other night—peace on earth and goodwill toward men. Take advantage of the mistletoe. You may as well. And ask each other about the Christmas gifts you bought for each other. You have two hours to kill. Love, Molly.’”
“Time to kill?” Jared muttered. “What about a daughter?”
Emma lifted her gaze from the letter and looked at her husband. Really looked at him. He had his hands shoved into his coat pockets, and his jaw set defensively. But there was something in his eyes—a look that told her he wasn’t entirely against the idea of a talk.
She realized that neither was she.
Emma took a deep breath and took the first step. “We shouldn’t allow her to manipulate us this way.”
“You’re probably right,” he replied.
“Probably,” she emphasized.
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Probably.”
That was a tease, the first one she’d seen from him in forever. Since long before Frank died, certainly. Emma’s pulse began to pound.
She waited. She’d taken the first step, right? He could darn well take the next one. She folded her arms and made a significant glance toward the ceiling.
He shocked her speechless when he took two bold steps forward, then swooped in to kiss her once, briefly but firmly, on the mouth. “Pax, Emma.”
She closed her eyes. The spark of hope within her flickered into a flame. She licked her lips and tasted him. “Pax, Jared.”
