Christmas Steele (3 page)

Lucinda stood looking confusedly back and
forth between her boyfriend and daughter. At last she left Fran and
went to stand beside Mr. Middleton. “Frannie, you remember Mr.
Middleton. Tom,” she added, sounding nervous.

It was an odd moment of twisted reality where
the parent was now the kid, nervously introducing her new love
interest to a child who had somehow become the one who bestowed or
withheld approval. And if the look on her face was any indication,
Lacy’s mother was definitely of a mind to withhold approval.

“Mr. Middleton,” she said coolly, though she
politely extended her hand.

“Frannie,” Mr. Middleton said, shaking the
proffered hand.

“I prefer Fran,” she replied, quickly
withdrawing her hand.

“Since when?” Lacy interjected. “Mom,
everyone calls you Frannie.”

“Well I prefer Fran, Lacy,” her mother said
irritably, shooting her a look. “And when is the last time you had
your hair trimmed? I can see the split ends from here. Have you
been running? Because I know the way your grandmother feeds you,
and if you don’t watch it, you’re going to balloon up. You know
weight problems run in our family.” She shot a significant look at
Lucinda who was pleasantly plump.

It was all Lacy could do to bite her tongue.
Her biological grandmother had been thinner than any of them. “I
think Grandma is perfect,” Lacy announced. “And I like my body just
fine, too, Mom.”

“It’s fine for now, but you’re young and your
metabolism is high. Wait until you get to be my age and it’s a
daily fight to keep the weight off.”

With Lacy’s penchant for sweets, it was
already a daily battle to keep the weight off, but she saw no
reason to inform her mother of that. Her mother really was a loving
and good person most of the time. But she was high strung with an
incredibly low tolerance for stress. Any change in location or
routine brought out her worst side. In retrospect, her grandparents
were probably wise not to tell her about the adoption. Though Lacy
deeply wanted for her grandfather to know his only daughter and
vice versa, she didn’t believe her mother could handle the
information.

Holidays had been notoriously bad in their
household, which was why Lacy’s grandmother handled most of them.
Nothing seemed to be able to ruffle Lucinda Craig, though her
daughter was about to test that hypothesis. Lacy could tell her
grandma felt caught in the middle, not wanting to upset her only
child while not wanting to hurt her boyfriend--and her daughter’s
biological father.

“How’s the weather down in Florida, Clint?”
Mr. Middleton asked her father, wisely diverting the conversation
to the most rational member of Lacy’s family.

“It’s hot, Mr. Middleton,” her father
said.

“Please call me Tom. High school was over a
long time ago.”

“Tom,” her father repeated with a dutiful
smile and Lacy knew that his acceptance of the situation was now
complete. If only her mother would cooperate so easily. She was so
chilly and unbending Lacy felt the need to grab a sweater just from
being near her.

“Everything is on track for the holiday
party, Mom,” Lacy added cheerfully, hoping to divert her mother’s
attention to a more pleasant topic. “We’ve all been baking like
mad. Grandma has been a task mistress.” She smiled at her
grandmother to let her know she was teasing. Her grandmother smiled
back, but it looked strained.

“The holiday party,” her mother repeated. “I
was hoping that could just be for family this year.”

“But we always invite friends,” Lacy
protested, probably sounding like a pouting child. Her mother often
had that effect on her.

“What’s wrong with just family this year?”
her mother asked, shooting a not-so-subtle look at Mr.
Middleton.

“Mom, Gladys and her grandson have already
been invited. They don’t have anywhere else to go. And I was hoping
to invite Tosh.”

“Tosh?” her mother’s ears perked up as they
always did when Lacy mentioned a man. “Who is Tosh?”

“He’s our pastor,” Lucinda volunteered. “A
remarkably nice young man, and so handsome.”

“Really?” Frannie said, shooting Lacy a
speculative look. “Why haven’t you mentioned him before, Lacy?”

“I thought I had. But we’re just friends,
Mom. You’ll like him.”

“I can’t wait to meet him,” her mother
replied. “But I don’t know why you insist on calling everyone a
friend. What’s wrong with dating?”

“I’m just not ready to date yet, Mom,” Lacy
said, uncomfortable with the shift in conversation.

“Why not?” her mother asked.

“Because that area is still a little painful
for me,” Lacy said, her eyes darting around the room, looking for
escape.

“Why?” Frannie pressed.

Lacy sighed. Obviously she was going to have
to spell it out. “Because my fiancé dumped me for my sister and it
hurt. A lot.”

Her mother waved her hand dismissively in
front of her face. “Oh. That. But, honey, obviously you can see
that Robert and Riley are better suited for each other. You and
Robert were never a good fit.”

Lacy’s jaw dropped. Was her mother really
excusing what had happened?

“Can I help you carry your bags, Clint?” Mr.
Middleton interjected. He stepped forward and laid a hand on Lacy’s
shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Lacy wasn’t sure if it was meant to
be comforting or restraining, but she decided to take it as a
comforting gesture.

“Sure,” Clint replied, relieved to have found
an escape from the tension in the house. “Want to come, Frannie?
You left your purse in the car.”

“All right,” Frannie replied, turning to
follow her husband back outside.

Lacy remained standing in the center of the
kitchen, feeling shell-shocked and overwhelmed. “Grandma, do we
have any ice cream?” she asked.

“No, but I think I’m going to make a prune
cake,” her grandmother replied, sounding as dismal as Lacy
felt.

“I’ll help,” Lacy volunteered. “It’ll go
faster.” With that, they turned their attention to culinary matters
and began assembling the cake.

Chapter 4

“Really, mother, was prune cake necessary
with eight dozen cookies?” Frannie asked as the family sat down to
supper.

“The cookies are for the holiday party, Mom,”
Lacy said.

“Ugh. I can feel myself getting fatter by the
second,” Frannie said.

“I think you’re perfect, Frannie,” her
husband added.

Lacy’s mother rolled her eyes, but didn’t
comment further, much to Lacy’s relief. Maybe it was the stubborn
streak in her, but when her mother got on her about her diet, it
only made her want to eat more. She had always used food as an
escape, and when she was a teenager she had wanted to escape her
mother and sister and their constant drama. That was probably why
she had been such a chubby teenager. College had been much calmer,
and the weight had dropped easily. Since Robert’s abandonment and
the subsequent turmoil in Lacy’s life, the battle of the bulge had
become an issue once again. Now with her mother here and in such a
bad mood, it was all Lacy could do not to pick up a fork and begin
shoveling warm prune cake straight from the pan.

She needed to get a breather from the house
or she would once again end up on the couch at three in the
morning, trying to decide if the absence of PABA was a good enough
reason to spend a hundred dollars on shampoo. That was why, when
her grandmother hinted that they might need more confectioners
sugar to finish icing the cookies, Lacy practically vaulted over
the counter in her enthusiasm to volunteer for a grocery run.

“We can get it tomorrow, dear,” Lucinda said,
eyeing Lacy with concern as she rubbed her shin, the one she had
bashed as she was jumping for her purse.

“No, Grandma, really, I’m happy to go. Is
there anything else we need? Something from the next state,
perhaps? I would be happy to drive wherever you need.”

Her grandmother gave her a sympathetic smile
and loving pat on the shoulder. “I think the sugar will be enough,
but take your time. Maybe you could see if Pastor Underhill is
available for a coffee.”

“That would be great, but this is Tosh’s busy
season. He has another party tonight. I’ll get the sugar, and maybe
I’ll get some coffee on my own.”

“Whatever you need, dear,” Lucinda said. With
a sigh, she turned toward the counter and stared helplessly at the
cookies. Mr. Middleton had gone home, probably thinking it would
help ease the tension in the house. Lacy hated that he no longer
felt welcome here. She had come to dearly love him, and she knew
her grandmother already missed him; they had been inseparable the
last few months. How ironic that the thing that should cause a
wedge between them now was their daughter.

“Mom will come around, Grandma,” Lacy said,
hoping she sounded convincing.

“Of course she will,” Lucinda replied,
sounding equally unconvincing.

Lacy gave her a hug from behind, kissing her
cheek. Lucinda smiled and rested her head against Lacy’s for a few
beats. “Want to take the car?” her grandmother offered.

“Thanks, Grandma, but I’ll walk. I had two
pieces of prune cake,” she added miserably, doing a mental calorie
calculation.

“Lacy, don’t let Frannie get you down about
your weight. You’re perfect,” her grandmother said. “You eat as
much cake as you want.”

Lacy laughed. “I’m not sure my figure would
remain perfect if I ate as much cake as I want, but thanks for the
vote of confidence, Grandma.” She waved and left the house,
breathing in the crisp winter air. It was cold, wet, and dreary,
but she really did need the exercise, and the store wasn’t that far
away—one of the best things about living in a small town. With
every step, she felt her tension draining away. She could survive
her parents’ visit. The key would be getting a daily break. Of
course, getting a daily break would be easier if she had a
legitimate reason to leave. With Tosh otherwise engaged, errands
were her only excuse, and there were only so many times she could
go to the store before her mother became suspicious.

“Are you caging the place?”

Lacy jumped, not realizing she had been
walking around the store in a daze until Jason spoke. “What?” she
said dumbly as she looked him up and down. How did he make jeans
and a long sleeved t-shirt look so
good
?

“You’ve been walking back and forth with a
blank expression on your face for the last few minutes. I wondered
if you were planning a heist.”

“Your job is making you cynical.”

He shook his head. “I’m pretty sure I became
a cop because I was already cynical. It’s a chicken/egg debate, I
guess. What are you doing here?”

“I came to get some sugar.”

“I’m right here,” Jason said with an
exaggerated wink and cheesy leer.

“Wow, I didn’t think you could be a creepy
old guy until you were at least thirty. Good job breaking the age
barrier,” Lacy replied.

Jason laughed. “So what are you doing after
you get your sugar?”

“Is this a pickup?” she asked.

“Depends on your answer,” he replied.

“I’m free.”

“Then, yes, it’s a pickup. Want to grab some
coffee?”

She thought of her mother, lying in wait for
her at her grandmother’s house. “More than anything in the world.”
Lacy replied, realizing as she said it how much it was true; she
had missed him. “What are you here for?” she asked, nosily peering
in his basket.

“The essentials,” he said, holding out his
basket for her inspection.

“Baby carrots and mixed greens are your
essentials?” she asked.

“They are if you like a good salad,” he
said.

“Your eating habits are bizarre,” she
commented.

“This coming from the person who surrounds a
prune in cake and caramel and calls it breakfast,” he said.

“You said you liked prune cake,” she reminded
him.

“It was good, but I also felt like I had to
do an extra hour on the treadmill to work it off,” he said.

“Why is everyone obsessed with weight today?
Why can’t we just eat and enjoy our food without worrying about our
bodies?”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, probably
alarmed by her over the top reaction to his innocent statement.
“Bad day, Red?”

She sagged in defeat, thinking they had all
been bad days lately. “Yes,” she said.

He moved forward and put his arm
companionably around her shoulders. “C’mon, let’s get your sugar
and get out of here.”

She allowed him to lead her like an invalid
to the baking section. She stepped forward and plucked a bag of
powdered sugar from the shelf, hugging it close to her chest when
he reached for it.

“You shouldn’t pay for my sugar,” she
said.

He rolled his eyes and pried the sugar from
her fingers. “Not everything has to be a fight, Lacy. What are you
making with this sugar?”

“Cookies.”

“Then give me some cookies and call it even,”
he said.

“All right,” she relented, although the sugar
was already in his basket and he was heading toward the
checkout.

“Are you like this with him?” Jason asked as
he set the items on the scanner.

“Who?”

He gave her a look. “Don’t play dumb, Lacy.
You know who I’m talking about; the other me—Stretch McPastor.

Lacy wouldn’t give in to her laughter,
finding the jab amusing would be disloyal to Tosh. “Tosh is not
that tall.”

“Please. He looks like he’s been on the rack
for a week. You look ridiculous together.”

She wanted to say the same about him and the
pretty blond, but it wouldn’t be true. They had looked perfect
together, like something from a magazine photo shoot.

“Are you?” Jason prompted.

“Am I what?” she asked, distracted by
thoughts of the blond. Who was she?

He gave an exasperated sigh. “Are you like
this with him? Is everything a battle?”