Christmas in Cupid Falls (8 page)

“That bad?” Kennedy asked.

“She made my mom dust the ceiling.”

“Pardon?” She laughed. She could almost hear Val complaining about dusting a ceiling.

“May claimed the ceiling was dusty and she didn’t want dust dropping in her food.”

“Oh, I can so imagine her tone. ‘Val, your ceiling is dusty. How do I know? Why, I saw a dust mote float to the floor. Yes, only one, but if there’s one, there’s more. What if that piece of dust fell on my cucumber sandwiches?
’
” Having dealt with May on a regular basis since becoming mayor, Kennedy was pretty sure she’d nailed her impression of her.

Malcolm burst into out-and-out laughter. “Yes, that was about it.”

“She’s been really difficult lately. I really think it has to do with her losing June. I’m hoping I can convince her to adopt a new dog at the Everything But a Dog event.”

“I’m not sure a dog will be enough,” he teased.

His shoulder brushed hers as they crossed the street to the second block. Kennedy felt an urge to lean into it. But she held herself back.
Present or future
, she reminded herself. Talking about the past was obviously trouble.

She searched for something innocuous to say. “It’s a beautiful night” was the best she could come up with.

“I always liked walking at night,” Malcolm replied. “I forget how much when I’m in Pittsburgh. I leave for the office in the morning, come home, pull in the garage, and go straight inside. I’m always so busy that I forget to take a break and get outside.”

“I live so close to work, I rarely drive. I can stop in at Elmer’s Market and get any groceries I need over lunch.”

She contrasted the life he’d described in Pittsburgh and her life here. His seemed incredibly lonely to her. “I can’t imagine never going outside and not being able to walk to things. I can go weeks without using my car. That’s one of my favorite parts of Cupid Falls. It’s a green thing.”

She made a mental note to try to think about a green campaign for town. She’d heard the term
ecotourism
bandied around. She’d have to explore the idea. After all, they had Lincoln Lighting now. It made LED lights and had started making solar panels, too. That was as green as green could get. She was always looking for angles to promote Cupid Falls, so she filed it away and concentrated on Malcolm.

“Mom used to walk me to school every day, then pick me up. Until I got so old that I told her it was embarrassing. I wish I’d have realize
d . . .
” He stopped, as if there was so much he wished he’d have realized that he couldn’t list it all.

“Your mom and I walked home in the evening together. Pap came along if we went in the mornings, but he was gone by the time she closed up the shop. We walked home most nights on this same route.”

Malcolm didn’t say anything.

“She used to talk about you, you know. She was so proud of you.” But it was more than that. Val used to tell Kennedy every detail of Malcolm’s life. When he graduated college, when he got accepted to law school. She shared the big moments in his life in the most minute of details.

Kennedy wouldn’t let him know how much she knew about him.

She knew about his first big heartbreak.

She knew how much Malcolm wanted to please his father.

She knew that Val had worried that he felt torn between his parents. Val had always tried to shelter him from her difficulties with his father.

Kennedy wanted to reach out and take Malcolm’s hand.

Present or future
, she scolded herself. She couldn’t allow herself to get lost in the past and feel bad about things she couldn’t change.

“I love how quiet it is this time of night,” Kennedy said, trying to place them firmly back in the present.

“I like how the houses are all lit up. You can imagine the family all coming together after a day of school or work,” Mal said.

Kennedy caught the beginning of the fantasy and added, “Sitting down and sharing their day as they share a meal.”

Malcolm must have sensed the rhythm. He added, “Maybe the neighbor runs over for sugar.”

“No, that’s cliché,” Kennedy scolded. “Maybe the neighbor runs over for cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon?” Mal asked with a chuckle.

“I was thinking about your mom’s oatmeal cookies, and she always claimed the cinnamon was the trick.” What was wrong with her? Thinking about Val, about their loss, got them in trouble.

“Oh, great,” Mal said, a note of teasing in his voice. “I’d forgotten the cookies, but now I’m pining for them again.”

Kennedy pulled the conversation back to the present. “About our fictional family, maybe the dog’s jumping up on them, begging to go for a walk.”

She pointed across the street at Lamar Thomas. He was a big, burly man. His father was a fisherman back when Lake Erie was populated with fishing boats. Lamar’s father had fished, even through retirement, even as the number of fishing boats dwindled.

Lamar had grown up on the boat, and now he was Cupid Falls’ street department. A department of one. He did more than plow and maintai
n . . .
he was a general handyman. Kennedy had never asked Lamar to do something and not had him find a way to accomplish it.

“Hi, Lamar. Hi, Otis.” Otis was his aging cocker spaniel.

“Good evening, Mayor. Mal,” he called back as they passed.

Mal looked back at the man and his dog. “Do I know him?”

“No, I don’t think so. He moved here from Erie.”

“But he knew my name,” Mal said, glancing back again.

Kennedy laughed. “You’ve been in Pittsburgh too long. You forget what it’s like here in Cupid Falls. Everyone knows everyone, even if they don’t. And everyone knows everyone’s business, even when it’s none of theirs. You have always been the subject of a lot of the town’s talk. Malcolm Carter the Fourth, Esquire. It’s a ‘local boy moves to the big city and makes good’ sort of thing.”

He glanced back again, but Kennedy didn’t need to in order to know Lamar had long since turned the corner with Otis and headed home. Malcolm was still quiet, which made her nervous, so she blurted out, “Did you know Lamar means ‘from the ocean’?”

“No.”

“Lamar’s father said he didn’t know a name that meant ‘from the Great Lake,’ so he went with Lamar.”

Malcolm still didn’t say anything.

“His dad retired last year and moved in with Lamar. They’re building a boat in Lamar’s backyard.”

“A boat?” he finally asked.

Kennedy nodded. “It’s a small model of the
Brig Niagara
. To scale and everything.”

“Oh.”

Kennedy couldn’t remember ever being so happy to see home. The timer had turned on the porch light for her, and Aunt Betty’s house looked welcoming. “Thanks for walking me home.”

She fled into the house. Malcolm stood and watched as she hurried inside, closed and locked the door behind her. She peeked out the window. He was still on the sidewalk. He looked like he was lost in thought. After another moment, he turned and walked the final few steps to Pap’s house.

They’d talked about coming home to families at night, but neither of them was coming in to anything more than an empty house.

Kennedy hung up her coat.

She needed to make dinner. Maybe an omelet.

But more than that, she was thinking about making cookies.

Oatmeal raisin, with lots of cinnamon, to be exact.

CHAPTER FIVE

Mal was up early on Thursday to start the turkey. He’d put it in the brine solution yesterday. He remembered helping his mother with holiday turkeys. She used to squeal like a girl when he pulled the neck out of the cavity for her.
It’s so gross
, she’d cry.

There had been no one around yesterday when he’d prepped the bird.

He realized that he’d missed Thanksgiving with his mom last year. He wished more than anything he could go back in time. He’d have come down the day before Thanksgiving and prepped the bird for his mom. He’d have hung out in the kitchen and helped with the rest of the cooking.

But there were no do-overs.

Maybe that’s why he was still in Cupid Falls. He wanted to do things right with Kennedy and the baby the first time around.

He glanced at the plate of oatmeal cookies Kennedy had left on his porch.

There was no note. Nothing to indicate they were from her. But the minute he’d opened the plastic container he’d known.

And the gesture touched him. It also made him feel hopeful they’d make things work out, though he wasn’t sure how.

For a man who spent a great deal of his life meticulously planning cases or even writing contracts, he still didn’t have any solid idea what to do about Kennedy and the baby. He hoped that if they spent time together she’d see that he was right, they should get married for the baby’s sake.

He popped a cookie in his mouth before getting to work on the dinner, and for a moment, all his confusion gave way to the feeling of being home.

He closed his eyes, and for that one moment, he felt his mother’s presence.

When he opened his eyes, he realized there was one thing he could do for Kennedy—he could feed her a Thanksgiving dinner to remember.

He pulled the bird from the brine and saw that the light had gone on in Kennedy’s kitchen.

He glanced at the clock. It was only six. She didn’t have to work today, so this was awfully early.

He wondered if she was okay.

If the baby was all right.

Maybe it was kicking. Or maybe she was having more of those Braxton Hicks contractions. He’d been reading up on pregnancy and knew a lot of women experienced them, but he worried.

He knew that stress wasn’t good for Kennedy or the baby. He patted the turkey dry.

He was certainly giving her stress, but he couldn’t walk away like she wanted. He started spooning the stuffing he’d made into the bird.

So what was he going to do about Kennedy?

That was the question he needed to answer.

He finished up with the turkey and put it in the oven after he’d pulled out the pan of cinnamon rolls. They were another part of his mother’s Thanksgiving tradition. She’d get up early to cook, and the cinnamon rolls were her reward.

The light was still on in Kennedy’s kitchen.

He looked at the cake pan full of rolls and took half. He put them on a plate, then pulled on a pair of Pap’s old boots at the back door and tucked his flannel pajama pants into them. He flipped the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head as he made a dash from his back door to Kennedy’s. It hadn’t snowed in a couple of days, but it was cold enough that the grass in the back was frozen hard, so the sprint was easy.

He knocked softly.

Kennedy came to the door with a smudge of flour on her nose, her hair in a braid down the back, and a bathrobe covered in balloons. “Malcolm, it’s only six. What are you doing?”

“I was starting the turkey and saw your light on, so I brought you these.” He thrust the plate at her. “If you let me in, they’d stay warm.”

“I just put the pies in the oven.”

“Then this is perfect timing. You can invite me in and we’ll have a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll before I head back over to clean up this first batch of dishes.”

“Malcolm—”

He interrupted her. “Kennedy, it’s a cinnamon roll and coffee. Think of them as a payback for the cookies.”

She didn’t acknowledge the cookies, but she did open the door wider and let him in. “Have a seat. It’ll have to be decaf.”

“That’s fine. I switched over the other day.” He sat down at the counter.

She turned around as she poured coffee into two mugs. “Why?”

“I handed you the decaf and looked at mine and felt guilty. I figured if you couldn’t have caffeine, then I shouldn’t, either. Sort of a misery-loves-company sort of thing.”

She set the mugs down on the counter, then sat down. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Kennedy, I left you alone for most of this pregnancy. The least I can do is give you what little support I can.” He nudged the plate toward her. “So now I drink decaf and bring you cinnamon rolls.”

She laughed and took one. “They are still warm.”

“Mom and I used to try to time it. The rolls came out as the turkey went into the oven. Then we’d celebrate. I don’t think they’d taste the same if I ate them by myself, so you’re doing me a favor.”

She chuckled and took a bite. “They’re so good.”

“Mom made hers from scratch. Mine came from a can.”

“Well, they’re still good. Your mom would be pleased you’re carrying on the tradition.”

He took one himself. “I wish I’d been with her last Thanksgiving.”

“Malcolm, she understood. There was so much pride in her voice every time she talked about you.”

“Stil
l . . .
”

She set down the roll and said, “Do you know what she said once?”

“What?”

“She said you were the son that every mother wished she could have.” Kennedy patted his arm. “She loved you, she was proud of you, and she knew you loved her. That’s something to take comfort in.”

“Thank you.” He reached over and wiped the flour from her nose. “Flour,” he explained as she shot him a questioning look. He pulled his hand back.

Kennedy reached up and rubbed her own face as they finished their rolls in companionable silence.

Mal fel
t . . .
a bit more settled. His mother knew he loved her. He still wished he’d been around more, but she’d understood.

“I was thinking about do-overs this morning,” he said.

“Do-overs?”

“If I could go back, I’d do things differently. I’d come home more often. Not just on special days, but just for the heck of it. I’d surprise Mom. I’d show up at the Center and walk home with the two of you, like we did the other night.”

“She’d have loved that.” Kennedy smiled, as if imagining the scene with him.

“That’s what I want you to know,” he said softly.

“There are no do-overs?” she asked.

“That’s right. You and m
e . . .
we didn’t plan on being in this position, but here we are. We need to get this whole parenting thing right the first time, because if we screw it up, we can’t go back and fix it. If we screw up, it will be our child who pays the price.”

He waited for Kennedy to say something. To agree. When the silence dragged on too long, Mal decided to say it all at once. “That’s why I asked you to marry me. Our child deserves to have two parents. I can’t tell you how many times I wished my parents were still together so that I wouldn’t always feel as if I was being disloyal to one of them. If my dad made arrangements to have me in Pittsburgh and I didn’t really want to go because I had something going on in Cupid Falls. Or if I was in Pittsburgh enjoying myself, I’d feel guilty knowing Mom and Pap were here missing me.”

“You couldn’t ever make both of them happy,” she stated, not asked.

That was an understatement. “No. So I tried to make them both proud. I did well in school and played sports, but nothing I did ever felt like enough. Nothing could ever change the situation.”

“Malcol
m . . .
” She reached across and touched his hand. For a moment, he thought she was going to hold it, but she pulled her hand back and said, “When I was young, I had a crush on this boy. I wanted him to notice me, to fall madly in love with me, and to realize he couldn’t live without me.”

“Did he ever notice you?”

Kennedy shook her head. “No. But the point is, I learned that I’m okay on my own.”

She busied herself with spreading more butter on her cinnamon roll, and Malcolm realized that it was more than that school crush. She’d lost her parents and found herself living with her aunt.

He remembered her aunt. She was a no-nonsense woman who didn’t seem overly inclined to shower Kennedy with love and affection.

Kennedy had been alone, looking for someone to love her. And she’d fallen for some gu
y . . .
some guy who couldn’t see what an amazing woman she was.

Mal wish she’d told him the guy’s name. He wasn’t the kind to seek out someone and punch him for something that happened in high school, but he wouldn’t be opposed to accidentally stepping on the idiot’s foot.

He smiled at the thought.

“What?” Kennedy asked.

“I was thinking that you and I might not have all the answers, but we both agree on one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“The baby is the priority. If we can always remember that—always put him first—we won’t get too far off track.”

This time she reached over and didn’t just brush her hand across hi
s . . .
she held it.

“I think you’re right.”

The timer buzzed and she pulled back her hand. “The pies should be done.”

Mal glanced at the clock. “I better get back and check on the turkey.”

“Thanks for sharing,” she said, gesturing to the rolls.

He nodded. He wanted to thank her for sharing, too. He knew they weren’t any closer to figuring out how to share their child, but after their exchange, he felt pretty sure that given some time, they’d figure it out.

It was just after one that afternoon when Kennedy walked over to Pap’s house. She was holding two pies and waiting for Malcolm to answer the door. He’d only stayed a half hour this morning, but that half hour had shaken her.

There was something s
o . . .

Intimate
. That was the word.

There was something so intimate about sharing coffee and cinnamon rolls with him while she was wearing a bathrobe.

Sharing decaffeinated coffee.

He’d switched because she had. That touched her.

She felt as if they’d built some connection, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to do that. If she had a connection to Malcolm, it might make things harder since he wanted to be involved with the baby. Keeping things civil but distant. That’s what she wanted.

This morning threw that off. She wished she’d said no to dinner, but since she hadn’t, she was going to try to build that relationship. Civil. That’s what she was going for. So she pasted her best flower-shop-civil smile on her face in preparation—she’d used it a lot with May. But it wasn’t Malcolm who opened the door, it was Pap Watson.

“Pap, you’re back,” she said with genuine delight as she set the pies down on the small table in the entry and hugged him. It was an awkward hug because the baby had pushed her stomach to ridiculous expanses.

“I am back. Course, I’m heading back to Erie right after dinner. I’ve got plans at six, that’s why we’re eating in the afternoon here.”

“So who is this mystery woman?” she asked as he shut the door and she started to debundle. Most years she didn’t mind cold-weather layers, but this year it was one more thing to try and work around. “She must be pretty special.”

Pap’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know there’s a woman?”

“Look at you. No flannel. No worn jeans. You’re all spit and polish. You look dapper, Pap. Of course there’s a woman.”

“Did anyone ever mention you’re a sassy girl?” He said it with a grin, so she knew he was teasing.

“You might have, once or twice.” She kissed his weathered cheek, then stood back and looked at him. She realized that this was the happiest she’d seen him since Val had passed. “I’m so glad. You deserve to be happy.”

“Everyone does, sweetie. Not everyone manages it, though. I’m lucky. I’ll introduce you to her at the Bow-Wow Ball. I still say that’s a lame name for the fund-raiser.”

“Don’t look at me. Clarence Harding started it when he heard the proceeds for the Christmas Ball were going to the Everything But a Dog Foundation. He barks every time he comes into the floral shop, no matter how many times I’ve told him it’s Bo
w . . .
long
O
. Bow as in Cupid’s bow and arrow.”

Pap laughed. “Kennedy, you are an original.”

“I’m doing my best to promote the town. Did I tell you that Aggie Samuels requested a variance so she can open a business in the residential part of town? The Cupid Falls Bed and Breakfast. How wonderful would that be? And I think I’ve found the money to expand the trail to the falls into a real bike path. Next summer we can have tours. Gus mentioned buying some bikes and maybe eventually some Segways and renting them out from The Cupboard’s old barn
. . .
”