Christmas in Cupid Falls (18 page)

“I know. But it seemed unfair to me that he expected her to raise their kids on her own. And I might have implied I was ready to help Jenny sue him for five years of back child support. Even a nominal amount for each kid multiplied by five years with interest would be a lot.” He smiled a devilishly pleased smile. “And my ballpark figure seemed to put the fear of God in him. He’s going to sign the papers immediately and start making payments this month. In return, Jenny will generously agree not to pursue back payments.”

She laughed. “Does Jenny know about her generous offer?”

“I was about to go find her at the restaurant when I saw you.”

Kennedy gave a delighted squeal and hugged him. It was an awkward hug, but she couldn’t help but think that the baby liked being sandwiched between its parents. “Thank you, Malcolm. Thank you so much. You’ve made a huge difference in her life.”

She realized that she was still hugging Malcolm and pulled back. “Sorry.”

“No apologies required. Just think, if you agreed to marry me, you could hug me as often as you liked.” He said it as if they were joking, but he watched her with more intensity than was required.

Kennedy shook her head. “And while hugging you is very nice, it’s not enough of a reason to marry someone. But seriously, thank you. You’ve changed somebody’s life today.”

Malcolm’s talk with Jenny had been satisfying. He’d made a difference for her.

She’d started crying and hugged him. Tavi and the rest of the customers in the restaurant were still giving him the stink eye, but he noticed Tavi didn’t kick or step on him. That was progress.

And this morning with Kennedy at the fall
s . . .
that was progress, too. She’d shared with him. Trusted him with her past. It might not be a marriage, but they wer
e . . .
closer.

He walked down the holiday-decorated street and felt lighter. His life was still a mess, but he felt a sense of optimism. Things would work out.

He’d see to it.

He stopped outside the Center and stared at the building. The building Kennedy wanted to buy. Maybe h
e . . .

His phone rang. He checked the caller ID and almost groaned when he saw his father’s number. When his father called before lunch, nothing good could come of it.

Mal wanted to send the call to voice mail, but instead, he hit Talk. “Sir?”

“Do you have those files on the Thompson case?” his father barked with no preamble or salutation.

“Yes. I was going to—”

“You’re off the case, so you don’t need to do anything other than bring them in to the office ASAP.”

Mal felt a stab of regret. The Thompson case was a big one. But on the heels of that regret came annoyance. “You know, you could start a conversation like a regular human being. Something like ‘Hi, Mal, how are things? I’ve missed you,
’
” he said sarcastically.

“I’m glad you find this amusing,” his father harrumphed. “I need those files.”

“I could e-mail you the information.”

“I prefer the hard copies.”

“I’ll bring them tomorrow.”

“Fine.” His father disconnected.

“Good-bye, son. Can’t wait to see you,” Mal said to no one but himself.

He went inside, scribbled on a Post-it note, put it on the front door, then headed over to Kennedy’s.

He walked into her shop. It smelled sweet with an undercurrent of something spicy.

Kennedy came out of the back room, an apron over her stomach. It had an arrow pointing at her huge stomach that said “Mama’s Little Bud” with a picture of a rosebud.

She saw what he was looking at and smiled. “Jenny and Joan were talking at the restaurant. Joan found a site that would make you whatever kitchen item you wanted. So, Joan got me this one.” She pulled a second apron out from under the counter, and it had a frog on it and said, “Mama’s Little Tadpole.”

“Those are awful.” He grinned as he said the words because they were awful in a wonderful way.

“Yeah, they’re pretty bad,” she said, laughing.

Mal knew that bad or not, she’d wear them. “I brought you a present, too. It’s for the baby, so you can’t say no.” He handed her the small bag.
Slowly, she took the bag and opened it. She looked at the wrapper.

“It’s a band you wear that’s supposed to help support your stomach,” he said.

When she didn’t say anything, he added, “It’s supposed to help with back pain.”

She looked up at him. “How did you know my back hurts?”

“I pay attention,” he said.

Kennedy looked from the bag to the man who’d given it to her. “Malcolm, I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, I’m hoping you’ll say you’ll keep an eye on things at the Center tomorrow. I’ve got to go to Pittsburgh and take some papers to my father. That was the second reason I came over. There’s nothing much going on other than a book club meeting. Saturday there’s the Comstock family’s annual pre-Christmas party.”

Kennedy laughed. “That isn’t simply a famil
y . . .
they’re a clan. Vivienne’s got four siblings and her dad was one of eight.”

Mal nodded. “Pap always said as long as the Comstocks kept having babies, the Center will have financial security. They can’t fit in any one person’s house. I can’t imagine they’ll need anything, they’ve done parties with us so often, but in cas
e . . .
”

She nodded. “I’m on it.”

“I was going to set up the tree at the Center tonight. It was something Pap, Mom, and I always did together. I wondered if you’d come over and help.”

Kennedy paused, and for a moment he thought she was going to say no, but she nodded. “Okay. I helped them the last few years.”

“Because I didn’t come home.” He regretted all the times he didn’t find time to come home. All the trees he didn’t decorate. All the moments he missed. He thought of Jenny. Of her warning that he’d regret the moments he missed with his child, and he knew with absolute certainty that she was right.

“Malcolm, that’s not what I meant. It wasn’t some slam.”

Kennedy looked contrite, and he hurriedly assured her, “I know that’s not how you meant it. But I blame myself for not coming home. For not making my family a priority. I felt as if I had to put my career first. And you know my father. He’s not big on time off for holidays. I had case
s . . .
” He shrugged. “Those are only excuses, my way of trying to make myself feel better, because you and I both know I should have been home.”

“If you thought your mom was sick, that she needed you, you’d have been here. I know it. She knew it.” Kennedy rested her hands on the silly apron over the baby. “You had no reason to believe you wouldn’t have years of holidays to spend with her.”

“But I didn’t have those years of holidays.” And that was something he’d have to find a way to live with, but he’d always regret missing those moments with his mom.

“No you didn’t,” Kennedy said. “But you can’t live your life expecting the worst. You didn’t know.”

He didn’t want to rehash his guilt over not being here more for his mom, so he changed the subject. “I better get back to work on those papers for my father. I’ll let you get back to your work. When you’re done here, why don’t you come over? We need to go pick up a tree and then decorate. I’ll bring the boxes up this afternoon so we’ll be ready.”

“Sounds good,” Kennedy said.

After Malcolm left, Kennedy tried on the belly band, and it did ease the nagging ache in her back.

She wished she could do something to ease Malcolm’s ache over the times he’d missed with his mom. She knew that Val had always known he loved her.

She also knew that she could tell him that and she could reassure him, but he wasn’t going to believe her, even if he knew she was right.

Knowing and feeling were two very different things.

She suddenly realized she did have something that might help Malcolm.

She went on her computer, dug up the file, and burned it to disc.

She closed the shop early and ran home to take care of the second part of her reminder for Malcolm and was practically skipping by the time she walked into the Center.
Practically skipping
because she was the size of a small house, and houses don’t skip.

“Is that you?” Malcolm called.

“No, it’s someone else entirely,” she called back. She was almost giddy with excitement.

He peeked out of the office and eyed her suspiciously. “What are you up to?”

“Why would you think I’m up to something?” she asked as she hung up her coat and had a moment of thankfulness that she hadn’t needed boots. It was impossible to see her feet anymore and next to impossible to tie shoes.

“You have a look about you.” Malcolm spotted the plate in her hand. “What do you have there?”

“Come into the office before we start the tree. I have something for you.”

She walked in, and because she spent so much time working on the computer, she felt at home dropping the disc into the drive.

“I made this last year and hadn’t thought about it until you mentioned the tree tonight. I’d bought myself an iPad for Christmas and set it up on the shelf to film us. And then never gave it another thought.”

She hit Play.

Mal sank into the chair and watched the scene play across the computer screen.

“Deck the halls with . . .” Val sang merrily. The merriment was the only thing that kept her off-key rendition bearable.

“Daughter, when the good Lord was handing out pitch, you were at the back of the line.”

Val pooh-poohed her father. “It’s Christmas. Carols sound good no matter how off-key you are.”

“You couldn’t hit a note if it were the side of a barn.”

She pooh-poohed him again.

Kennedy ignored the banter and put the ornaments up, one by one. She fingered each, wondering what the story was behind them. She knew that Val would tell her soon enough. And as if on cue, Val cried, “That’s one of my favorites. Mal’s scouting troop had their Christmas party here one year, and all the kids made us an ornament as a thank-you. That’s Mal’s.” She fingered the star made out of sticks. It had a red-and-black-checked ribbon on it and a small gift tag marked Mal. “Look, all the boys have one. Here’s Jon’s and . . .” She pulled each stick star and read the name.

“I’m sorry he’s not here to put them up with you,” Kennedy said, knowing she was a poor replacement.

Val laughed. “Oh, he’s here. Every ornament is a memory, and he’s part of all of them. I know it sounds like a greeting card commercial, but he’s always with me. He’s out proving himself, and if I know him, he’s loving every minute of it. He’s never lost a case, you know.” Her voice was brimming with motherly pride. “He loves me, he knows he’s loved, and he’s living a life that he loves. That’s all any mother could ask for.”

“He’ll find his way back to Cupid Falls. It’s in his blood,” Pap added.

“I know he’ll be back because I never taught him how to make my oatmeal cookies. The only way he gets them is if he comes home to visit. I’m that diabolical,” Val said with a mock-villain laugh.

“Yeah, the world lives in fear of my daughter,” Pap said.

“Speaking of fear, Kennedy, I have a gift for you.”

“It’s not Christmas for a couple weeks.”

“I know, but I want you to come to Christmas dinner, and I’m volunteering you for the pumpkin pies. This might help.” She pulled out a cookbook. “I’ve written all my recipes in it. I always thought I’d give it to a daughter, and for a long time, I didn’t think I’d be able to, then I realized that you don’t necessarily have to give birth to your daughter.”