Christmas in Cupid Falls (19 page)

Kennedy watched herself burst into tears as she hugged Val and the video blacked out.

“I killed the battery on my iPad. I wish I could have caught the rest for you, but I thought you needed to hear what she said. She loved you and she knew you loved her. She never doubted that. She never resented that you weren’t with her.”

“That’s how you got the recipe for her cookies?”

Kennedy nodded and unwrapped the plate of cookies. “I thought this was an occasion that called for them.”

For a moment, Malcolm didn’t say anything. He reached out and touched the computer screen, as if that movie had left some imprint on it. He turned to Kennedy. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for thi
s . . .
gift.” His voice was laced with emotion.

Kennedy reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. He reached up and covered it with his as he looked at the now-blank computer screen. “It does help. I still hate all the opportunities I blew, bu
t . . .
” He stopped, as if trying to get his emotions under control. “It helps knowing that Mom understood. I wanted to prove myself. I thought if I worked harder than anyone else my father would realize what an asset I was. Maybe I thought I could buy his approva
l . . .
”

“And his love?” Kennedy filled in.

He shrugged. “It sounds silly to hear it out loud.”

“No. It sounds human. I like you more when you’re real.”

“What am I when I’m not real?” Malcolm asked.

Kennedy wished she hadn’t said that. “I don’t know. You’re Malcolm Carter the Fourth. Cupid Falls’ golden boy. You aced every class in high school and were captain of the football team. You went to an Ivy League school and made a success of yourself. You’re a local legend.”

He snorted. “The only legend in Cupid Falls is about the waterfall. I’m just me. I’ve messed up plenty.”

“No you haven’t,” she said staunchly, maybe a hint of that teenage-girl crush creeping into her voice.

“I’ve messed up you and the baby.”

“I want to be real clear about something: this baby is a blessing. I know it wasn’t planned, but Malcolm, that night that you and
I . . .
” She didn’t finish the explanation because he was there. He knew what they’d done.

Her voice was little more than a whisper. “I hurt so bad. Val was my best friend. For so long I felt as if I didn’t belong anywhere, but that night, when she gave me that cookbook and hugged m
e . . .
it was the first time since my parents died that I felt like I belonged, if that makes sense. And when I lost her, I was adrift again. But that night, you held me and you grieved with me. Yo
u . . .
well, that night was special, and this baby came from that. I didn’t plan to be a single mother, but I’m beyond excited about the baby. And I love knowing that a part of your mom will live on in our child.”

He didn’t say anything.

“And if you hadn’t worked so hard, you couldn’t have changed someone’s life today.”

“I didn’t—”

“Jenny would disagree. You changed her life for the better. Remember that, Malcolm.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

It was just a small gesture of comfort for a friend, she told herself.

Problem was, she wasn’t sure she believed it.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

You’ve changed somebody’s lif
e . . .

Kennedy’s words kept replaying in Mal’s head on Friday as he drove south on I-79 to Pittsburgh. He drove over overpasses and under underpasses until he reached the heart of the city. He parked his car in the underground parking ramp, but rather than taking the elevator from the garage directly to the law firm’s floor, he went out onto the sidewalk. He stared at the huge office building that had been a big part of his life since he finished law school. No one seemed to notice him as they walked around him on their way to their destinations.

In Cupid Falls, someone would have stopped. They’d ask what he was doing, or ask if he needed something, or simply stop to shoot the breeze. Well, they would have done that before; now, they’d walk by him and glare because they all felt that he’d treated Kennedy poorly. But things were beginning to soften there.

When he’d been at the falls with Kennedy, he’d mentioned she was the heart of the community. She’d laughed at the notion. She talked about losing her parents and being her aunt’s obligation. She’d felt alone. He didn’t think she had any clue how much the town looked to her and counted on her—he wasn’t sure she realized how much a part of the community she was.

He’d watched the flower shop since he’d been home, and he couldn’t help but notice how frequently people went inside to see her. And while she did a steady business, he suspected that a lot of the visits had nothing to do with flowers.

As he thought about Kennedy and Cupid Falls, he stared at his father’s office building. He waited to feel some sense of happiness to be coming home.

All he felt was a need to get back to Cupid Falls—to get back to Kennedy. He’d worried the whole way up here that Kennedy would go into labor, or that she’d need him for something and he wouldn’t be there.

He continued to stare at the building, waiting to feel something. But the only thing he felt was the need to go back to Cupid Falls.

Finally, Mal went inside and took the elevator to the firm’s floor.

He nodded at people in the halls as he walked back to Senior’s office. It wasn’t like being at home in Cupid Falls. When he visited there, people would call out his name. They’d smack his back and ask how things were going.

He’d been gone for two week
s . . .
had it only been two weeks? It felt like he’d been back in Cupid Falls much longer. But he’d been out of the office for two weeks and no one seemed to notice.

He smiled at his father’s assistant. “Is he in?”

“He’s expecting you.” She shot him a look of warning.

“Bad mood?”

“I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, even as she nodded and winked at him.

“Wish me luck,” he said.

“You’ll need it,” she said in a quiet voice.

He knocked on the door and then opened it.

His father looked up and glared. “So the prodigal son has returned.”

“I’m simply here to drop off these.” He set the files on his father’s desk.

“You’ve been gone for two weeks. When I said you had until the holidays, I didn’t think you’d take it. You need to wrap things up there and come home.”

“I’m needed at home.” As he said the words, he realized his father had used the word
home
to refer to Pittsburgh and he’d used the word
home
when referring to Cupid Falls. “Most of my work is being handled by others right now, but they can call if they need me.”

His father didn’t say a word. He simply stared at Mal.

Mal waited. He knew this was one of his father’s famous attorney tricks. Say nothing. Force the opponent to fill in the empty space. Most people couldn’t stand the silence, and as they raced to fill it, they frequently gave his father ammunition.

The question that occurred to him was, when had he become his father’s opponent? On the heels of that he asked himself, what kind of father looked for ammunition against his son?

He folded his arms and waited, as silent as his father, not breaking eye contact. It was a battle—a battle of wills. Mal wasn’t sure what he was trying to prove, but still he waited.

Finally his father said, “I’d fire anyone else for walking away from their duties.”

“There’s a flaw in your argument. I’m not walking away from my duties, I’m attending to them. I have a child on its way.”

“And you have your duty to the firm.”

“One’s a child. One’s a job. The child wins.” Suddenly he realized that his father had faced this same decision and had made the other choice. He looked at his father. He’d never remarried. Mal wasn’t even sure he’d ever dated anyone other than his mother seriously. His father was married to the firm.

That struck Mal as a sad thing. Like Pap had said, no one ever looked back and wished for more time at work, but that’s all his father would have to look back at.

Mal knew with complete and utter surety that he didn’t want an extended leave. “I’m resigning.” The words felt right as he said them. “Thank you for the opportunity, sir. I learned a lot working here.”

“So you’re quitting? You’re walking away from this? Do you realize what an opportunity I’ve given you? You’re going to throw it away for what?”

“For a child,” Mal said. “For
my
child.”

His father shook his head. “You’re a fool.”

“Maybe. But I can practice anywhere.” Half-formed ideas chased after each other in his mind. Helping Jenny Murray. A practice in Cupid Falls? There was an office at the Center. He was close to Erie. “I need to be in Cupid Falls for my child.”

“That child will have its mother in Cupid Falls.”

“Speaking from experience, I can tell you that having a mother there is important. I’m sure Kennedy is going to be a wonderful mother. But that baby will need m
e . . .
they’ll need their father.”

His father was still silent, and Mal couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he simply said, “I’ll be going. I’ll type up my formal resignation before I leave, and I’ll clear my office out.” He started toward the door.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Senior asked.

Mal turned around. “Pardon?”

“That woman got what she wanted. She’s trapped you. You’re giving up your future to move to that Podunk town to do what? Waste yourself. You’ve got a great legal mind, and working with me you can make the most of it. What will you do with it there?”

“Cupid Falls is right outside Erie, sir. I can open my own practice.” And he could hang out a shingle in Cupid Falls. Malcolm Carter IV, Esquire. “I can take cases that interest me. I can work for people who need me.”

“Your clients here need you,” his father said stubbornly.

Mal realized what his father didn’t say—what he would never say—that
he
needed Mal. That he wanted his son with him.

“My clients here are predominately corporations. And while I know that area of law is a valid one, it’s not the kind of law I want to practice. I took on a client who was terrified and didn’t know what to do. I’m helping her with a divorce. I made a difference in her life. In her children’s lives. And I thought back to all my other clients, and I can’t remember anyone who needed me like she did. It meant something. I want to take cases like that. I want to make an actual difference.”

“What is it about that town?” His father wore a rare expression for him—total perplexity. “You leave here a young, talented attorney who without any nepotism would someday be a partner in the firm, and you’re throwing it all away to open up a solo practice taking on divorce cases and tractor parking violations.”

“I didn’t come to argue,” Mal told his father. “Frankly, I didn’t know I was quitting until I got here. I think I figured out that I couldn’t work here again as I looked at the building, but as we talked, I knew for sure.”

“It’s that town. Your mother could have had everything with me. Money, a place in society. She threw that all away for the town.”

“She never had you, Father.” Mal purposefully called him Father, not Senior or sir. The word felt foreign on his lips. “You never loved her. You felt she trapped you.”

“She did,” his father said stubbornly.

Mal shook his head. “You’re wrong about that, just as you’ve been wrong about so many things. She loved you. She thought she could change you, that she could help you see that there was more to life than a corner office. She thought she could make us a family, but she couldn’t. That’s why she left you. And I’m thankful she took me with her.”

“Go. Just go.”

It would be easy to simply turn around and leave, but Mal felt he had to try to reach his father for his mother’s sake. “I know you’re angry. But I’m all you have, sir. And Pap said something to me when I first got to town. It’s stuck with me. He said it isn’t work, but the people in your life who count. Well, I’m all you have. I’d like to think I count for something. I want you to know that just because I’m leaving the firm doesn’t mean I’m leaving you. I’d really like it if you came up to Cupid Falls for the holidays. I’d like to have you around when the baby arrives. He’ll have Pap as a great-grandfather, but you’ll be his only grandfather. I want you to be part of his life.” He paused a moment and added, “I want you to be part of my life.”

His father didn’t say anything, so Malcolm turned to leave a second time.

“Are you going to marry her?” his father called out.

Mal turned back to his father. “I’ve asked; she keeps saying no.”

“Carters don’t know the meaning of the word
no
,” his father scoffed.

Mal took that to mean his father was offering him his support. “I do hope you’ll come down for Christmas, sir.”

Mal wrote up his letter of resignation. Turned over all his files and notes to the colleagues who’d taken over his cases, and packed up his office. Then he headed home.

Home to Cupid Falls.

He planned for his new solo practice on the two-hour drive.

A practice built on making a difference.

There were vacant storefronts on Main Stree
t . . .
no, no. He owned a building on Main Street. He could cut his overhead by working from the Center, which would mean he could take more pro bono cases. An
d . . .

The miles flew by. It started to snow as he parked the car in front of the Center under a streetlight that had a cupid dressed as Santa Claus banner flapping on it. He looked down Main Street to the identical lights and banners.

He looked at the flower shop’s window, which was illuminated with a small tree and huge poinsettias.

He sighed.

He was home.

He went to find Kennedy because he knew it wasn’t Cupid Falls that was home.

It was Kennedy. It was the baby they’d made together.

Saturday morning Kennedy stumbled into the kitchen wearing some knee-length maternity yoga pants and a giant T-shirt. She wished she could start the coffeemaker. Wanting a cup of coffee more than she’d ever wanted anything. She settled for starting the teakettle for a rousing cup of herbal tea.

The baby kicked, as if thanking her.

“As soon as you’re here, I’m going to mainline a giant cup of coffee,” she told him.

He began a staccato burst of kicking. She sang to him as she started making breakfast. She’d found music seemed to soothe him, and the kicking quieted. He was particularly fond of Lady Antebellum’s “Golden.” She couldn’t argue with his musical taste because she loved that entire album.

She gently massaged her stomach with her left hand as she poured granola in a bowl. She added some raisins and vanilla yogurt. The teapot whistled and she went with lemon tea this morning.

The song done, she sat down to her breakfast. One bite in, there was a knock on the back door.

Who on earth was at her door before seven in the morning? And at the back door no less. The curtain blocked her view, so she shifted it to one side an
d . . .

Of course. Malcolm. Who else would knock at her door before she’d even dressed? She fel
t . . .
pleased. More than that, she felt happy. Happy to see him. Happy that these early morning visits had become a common occurrence.