Mistletoe Mine (4 page)

She was shown to a lovely, feminine room decorated in cabbage roses and antique furniture, including a graceful wooden rocker that sat before a fireplace furnished with electric logs. A quilt done in shades of ivory and white lay draped across the chair’s back. She tipped the teenage boy who brought up her luggage, then unpacked and surrendered to the lure of the rocker.

Emma slept and dreamed of being lost in a field of alfalfa.

* * *

For the fifth time in as many minutes, Jared second-guessed his decision to wear a suit to this family dinner. Molly would likely show up in jeans, and Emma … well … the old Emma would wear a dress, but he didn’t have a clue what this Emma would do. Better to be overdressed than underdressed, right? This was no different than a meeting with bankers. Best not to give the opposition the upper hand in any area.

Staring at his reflection in the full-length freestanding mirror, he didn’t see a six-foot-four rancher with green eyes and brown hair going gray at the temples. He saw a grim-faced man wearing the tie his daughter had given him last Christmas who needed to stop tugging at his collar and badly wanted a scotch.

The fact that he was tense about tonight annoyed him.

The fact that he looked forward to seeing Emma again worried him.

Their marriage was over. Done. Finished.

She traveled the world with an Italian gigolo—her “manager”—and be hanged if he’d forgive her of that.

Not that she’d ever shown any inclination to forgive him.

Jared wasn’t without blame for their trouble. He shared some responsibility for what happened, and he’d never once tried to deny that. He’d spent the past few years trying to atone, trying to live with it. Trying to live with
himself—
with the ugly words that Emma had shouted at him that terrible night playing through his mind in an unending loop.

It’s your fault, Jared. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t introduced Frank to horse racing or if you’d paid attention to the books. You and those stupid breeders, those stupid horses
.

Grimly, Jared gave his tie one last straightening nudge, then turned away from the mirror and checked the mantel clock. Five till seven. It was time.

He exited his room and made his way downstairs. The parlor door was closed, with a sign that read
Private Party
hanging from a clip on the doorframe. He drew a deep breath, knocked, then opened the door.

Molly stood beside the fireplace, where a real fire burned, and upon seeing her, his breath caught.
She’s all grown up, the image of her mother at that age
.

Molly wore a classic black sheath dress and the pearls he’d given her for college graduation. The natural red highlights in her dark auburn hair glistened in the firelight, and when she saw him, her expression beamed with pleasure. “Daddy!”

She was across the room and into his arms in a heartbeat. Jared closed his eyes and enjoyed the experience, missing those years when this was a daily occurrence. “Hello, beautiful.”

“I’m so glad you’re here. I had nightmares that there would be a blizzard of epic proportions and they’d close the mountain pass and you wouldn’t be able to get to Eternity Springs.”

“I wouldn’t have let a blizzard stop me.” As she stepped back, he stared down into her face and shook his head. “Charlie better know just what a treasure he’s getting.”

“He does, Dad.”

From the corner of his eye, Jared saw movement in the doorway. He turned his head and absorbed the blow. Emma.

She looked gorgeous. Sophisticated. Unreachable. She, too, wore a black dress and pearls, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they were the pearls he’d given her or a new string. Had she replaced his pearls like she’d replaced him?

“Mom!” Repeating her earlier welcome gesture, Molly took three steps toward her mother, then abruptly stopped. “Oh, look. I don’t believe this. We’re wearing the same dress.”

Emma’s gaze breezed over their daughter, then she smiled. “So am I dressing too young for my age or are you dressing too old?”

Jared gave no conscious thought to the words that emerged from his mouth. “It’s perfect for you both.”

Emma’s gaze met his. Her smile went brittle. “Hello, Jared.”

His reply was just as stiff. “Hello, Emma.”

Molly made a little snort of disgust, then hugged her mother. “I was just telling Dad that I’ve been having nightmares about a blizzard that kept everyone from reaching Eternity Springs.”

Jared could understand why blizzards had been on his daughter’s mind. After all, it felt as if the snowstorm of the century had just swept into the room with his wife.

Molly continued, “But you’re here, and Dad’s here, and Charlie arrived with his parents earlier today, so I have the people I need the most. I’m going to quit worrying about blizzards.”

Molly could quit worrying about blizzards, but Jared was afraid he might lose a toe or two to frostbite.

Emma looked around the room, then her gaze settled on the table set for three. “Charlie isn’t joining us?”

“No. I wanted tonight to be just the three of us.” She took a bracing breath, then said, “I think it’s time for some candid conversation, don’t you?”

Again, Jared’s and Emma’s gazes met. She looked just about as happy at the idea as he did. Jared spied the bar in the corner of the room and decided that a scotch was definitely in order. “Can I get either of you something to drink?”

“No, thanks,” Molly said. “I’ll have wine with dinner.”

“I’ll have a scotch, please,” Emma said.

She’d surprised him yet again. When did she start drinking scotch? “Ice?”

“No, thank you.”

Okay, then
. He fixed the drinks, pouring himself a double, as Molly continued: “I’ve put quite a bit of thought into how I’d like this dinner of ours to progress. First, I want to thank you both for agreeing to spend Christmas with me here before the wedding. I know that both of you would rather be just about anywhere else, with anybody else, but you are doing this for me. I recognize it, and I appreciate it more than I can say.”

Jared handed Emma her drink. Their fingers brushed, and they both jerked, sending the liquor sloshing up the sides of the crystal lowball glass. They didn’t speak. He felt like he had a mountain sitting on his chest.

Emma said, “Molly, I’m sure that both your father and I want your wedding to be all you’ve dreamed of. If spending Christmas together helps accomplish that, then everything’s fine.”

Molly’s sad eyes and shaky little smile spoke volumes. Jared felt the sting of guilt he’d grown accustomed to experiencing whenever he thought about the effect of his and Emma’s estrangement on their only child.

“Good,” his daughter said in response to her mother’s comment. “I’ve been hoping you feel that way, because with that in mind, I have a special request. Consider it my Christmas gift or my wedding gift. I don’t really care which. I want you to know that I want this more than anything else you could possibly give me.”

Jared’s stomach sank. Surely she wouldn’t ask for some sort of reconciliation as a gift. She had to know that wouldn’t be reasonable. If she were three or thirteen, he could see that she might ask for the impossible, but at twenty-three? She should know better.

Although … Jared stole another glance at Emma.
Was
it impossible? Was there any chance that Emma would seize upon the excuse and say “Let’s give it a try”? What would he do if she did?

Her body language gave no clue as to what she was thinking. His heartbeat accelerated. He licked his suddenly dry lips. With her voice calm and quiet, Emma asked, “What is it that you want, Molly?”

Molly laced her fingers, straightened her spine, then looked first her mother, then her father, in the eyes. “Mom. Dad. As a gift to me, I’d like you two to get a divorce.”

Jared closed his eyes.

* * *

Emma’s heart twisted in pain.
A divorce?
Molly wanted them to get a divorce?

Emma sliced a look toward Jared. Had this been his idea? Had he put her up to making this request? She couldn’t tell by looking at him, and that only intensified the hurt. Once upon a time, she could read him like a book.

Molly continued, “I know this might seem like a strange request, but I’ve thought a lot about it. It’s obvious your marriage is over. Neither of you are happy. Neither of you are moving on with your life. That’s no way to live.”

As she spoke, she looked from Emma to Jared, then back to Emma again. “If you’ve been waiting for me to grow up or graduate, well, you don’t have to wait any longer. You don’t have to worry about me any longer. But as long as you two are stuck in this … limbo … I worry about you. I’ve been worried about you both for years now, and I think it’s time to stop. Don’t you? Please, just go ahead and get a divorce. I know you’ll both be happier.”

Emma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She didn’t know what to say or how to react. This suggestion had come completely out of the blue. She waited, hoping Jared would speak first.

His mouth remained stubbornly closed.

Figures
. She cleared her throat. “Molly, I—”

A knock at the door interrupted her, and the door swung open. Celeste Blessing swept inside, followed by a woman Emma’s age or maybe a little bit older. They both carried trays loaded with food. “I hope you are hungry,” Celeste said. “Jared and Emma Stapleton, I’d like you to meet Ali Timberlake, owner of the Yellow Kitchen, the best restaurant in Colorado.”

“Oh, Celeste,” the other woman said with a roll of her eyes as she set her tray on the buffet.

Emma was thrilled at the interruption. She and Ali Timberlake had spoken on the phone a number of times as they planned the reception menu. She stepped toward Ali, her hand outstretched as she said, “Ali, it’s lovely to finally meet you. I’m Emma.”

“And I’m Jared,” he said, coming up behind Emma.

Ali shook their hands, complimented Emma on her talent, then presented the items on the buffet. “If anything doesn’t suit your fancy or if you want to add something to the menu, just let me know. We still have time to make changes.”

“I’m sure we’re going to love everything, Mrs. Timberlake,” Molly said. “Charlie still goes into moans of rapture about your Alfredo sauce any time Italian food gets mentioned.”

Emma asked a few reception-menu questions, more as a delaying tactic than out of curiosity, but soon the other women left the Stapleton family alone. Emma and Jared stood frozen in place. Molly spoke with false brightness. “We’d better eat while it’s hot.”

Emma had sat through uncomfortable meals in the past, but this one topped them all. The food was delicious, and Emma had no concerns about that part of the wedding. Molly babbled on about centerpieces and music, and Emma’s discomfort grew. This was ridiculous. They were acting like children. She was just about to speak when Jared set down his fork and said, “Enough. This is absurd. Molly, please excuse yourself and allow your mother and me some privacy.”

Molly glanced from one parent to the other and hesitated. “I’m not sure—”

“Molly,” Emma snapped. “This is what you wanted when you set this little meeting up. Let us deal with it.”

Their daughter could be as stubborn as Rocky Mountain granite. “But I haven’t eaten my dinner.”

“Load your plate on the way out,” Jared said.

She huffed and lifted her nose in the air, but she finally sashayed out of the room. In the moment that the door shut behind her—loudly—an unexpected thing happened. Emma’s gaze met Jared’s … and they shared a smile.

For Emma, it was a flashback to another time, a good time when their family was … a family. The smile was a pin that popped the balloon of tension hanging in the room, but as that force dissipated, another emotion filled the void. Sadness. She felt it, and she could see it on Jared’s face.

How had they come to this?

The ugliness of their fight in the wake of Frank’s suicide had been the catalyst, of course. They both had been mired in pain and guilt, and had been furious at the actions the other had taken. They’d said some terrible, injurious things to each other. But even as she’d packed her bag and stormed out of the house, she’d never expected it to be the end of their marriage. She’d thought they’d needed a cooling-off period.

Somehow, though, cool had become frigid, then frozen. Frozen things shatter when dropped.

Divorce was the word, the sound, of their frozen marriage hitting the ground.

“Well …” she began, then faltered for more to say.

One side of his mouth lifted in a grim smile. “Yeah, well. So did you know what she had in mind?”

“Suggesting we …” She couldn’t make herself say the D-word, so she skipped it. “No. She told me she wanted us to spend Christmas together so that we wouldn’t be tense and awkward with each other during the wedding.”

“That’s what she told me.”

Silence fell between them now, with
awkward
and
tense
being the words of the day. Emma’s throat closed up, and pressure built behind her eyes.
I will not cry. I will
not
cry!

Jared drummed his fingers against the table. Emma felt the weight of his gaze on her, but she couldn’t make herself return it. She feared that if she did, when faced with the coldness in his eyes she’d lose her battle against tears.

“So,” he said abruptly. “How do you want to do this? Trade the names of our lawyers?”

The question was a knife plunging into her heart. Trying hard not to betray the wound, she reached calmly for her water glass with her right hand. Hidden beneath the table, the fingernails on her left hand dug into her thigh. A sip of water helped rid her of the lump in her throat. Left with only her pride, she managed to say, “Sure. I’ll email that information to you first thing tomorrow.”

His chin lifted slightly. “Okay. Good. I’ll do the same.”

“Okay. Good.”

“I don’t want this to be ugly.”

“I don’t, either. I hope we can avoid that. I’ll certainly try.”

“Me, too.”