Merriest Christmas Ever Page 16

  Merett wrestled her to the floor, tickling her. The sound of a snowplow caused him to stop and sit up. “Listen. We’re being dug out,” he said, putting a finger to Kirsten’s lips.

  She ran to the window, and Gracie reached across the Scrabble board that had somehow escaped the wrestling match to push his hair back. He smiled, and she touched the dimple in his cheek with a delicate forefinger.

  “See? You two really like each other, no matter what you say.” Kirsten’s smile was triumphant as she took off, chasing Spook into the hall and up the stairs.

  Merett lowered Gracie gently to the floor. “The know-it-all is right. I really, really like you. And I like having you in my life.” The piano pealed “Joy to the World,” and Merett felt Gracie’s smile against his lips.

  * * *

  When Merett and Kirsten left Gracie’s, they swung by the nursing home, so his Dad wouldn’t have to go out on the snow-covered roads to visit Mama. “You came,” she said, smiling. “And she came, too.”

  Not their names, Merett and Kirsten, but you and she. The recognition was there though, and the smile and the warmth in her blue eyes.

  “We brought you some fudge, Gramma,” Kirsten said, holding it out.

  “I used to make fudge.” Mama took a piece and held it up to the light, then nibbled a corner. “This is good.” She took another bite. “Did you make this, little girl?”

  Kirsten shook her head. “Gracie made it and sent it to you.”

  “Gracie Singleton,” Merett explained. “Remember her?”

  “The girl with blonde curls. Does she have a Christmas tree?”

  “She has two, Gramma,” Kirsten said, touching her grandmother’s hand. “They’re beautiful.”

  “Two trees? Does she have food?” She turned her eyes to Merett.

  Choking back a sob, he nodded. “She’s fine, Mama.”

  “You’re a good boy. I knew you’d take care of her, Merett.”

  Merett. Mama remembered his name. His heart struck up the Hallelujah Chorus.

  * * *

  Merett went back to Gracie’s house that night. He had to. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. She was an itch he couldn’t scratch. But he never expected to make love to her. He never planned to find himself in her bed. He just wanted to see her. Hold her. Kiss her.

  But when she opened the door, they looked into one another’s eyes, and silently, fingers entwined, they climbed the stairs. She wore a knit dress, and he wondered where she’d been, but his thoughts quickly went to feasting his eyes on the promises it made as it skimmed her luscious curves. By the tree on the landing, he hesitated, searching her face, and even when he saw the passion in her eyes, he waited. She nodded and took another step. And another. Until she’d led him to the top.

  He’d wanted her for so long. Forever. But since they’d lain together last night, sharing their deepest thoughts, touching, aching, the longing had grown to something more than physical. It was a desire so strong he wanted to crawl inside her heart and soul.

  As he closed the door of her bedroom behind them, Merett had no second thoughts. He was still wearing his coat when she walked into his embrace, and as he kissed her, he let it slide, one arm at a time, to the floor. She loosened his tie. He unbuttoned his shirt. She unbuttoned his pants and he unzipped them. Her eyes on his erection, she sat down on the satin coverlet and edged her dress up her thighs.

  When he saw her lacy black garter belt, his breath began to come in short gasps, and he knelt to slide silky stockings down beautiful legs and over delicately arched feet. Looking up into Gracie’s face, he saw a panorama of emotions. Her eyes were smoky with passion, but her full lower lip trembled.

  Merett sat beside her on the bed to gather her beautiful mass of golden hair into his hands. Running his fingers through the ringlets, he brought one to his lips. He kissed it, stroked it, tasted it. Her eyes burned with desire, and Merett kissed her gently before his control left him.

  Kneeling quickly, he slid the knit dress up over her hips, and bunching it around her waist, removed the lacy garter belt and tiny strip of satin panty. Forcing himself to slow down, he kissed the flat plane of her stomach. She shuddered, and he kissed it again and ran his tongue down toward her golden triangle. She twisted her fingers in his hair and moaned. He worked his tongue in circles, slowly, tantalizingly, and Gracie cried out.

  He lowered his mouth closer to her pleasure spot. Closer. And then...he worked the tiny nubbin between his teeth, and pleasured it with his tongue. She made tiny sounds in her throat, and he slowed his pace, kissing her belly again. She wiggled impatiently, and he returned to her love spot, stroking, tasting, nibbling until her fingers tangled tightly in his hair. Shuddering, she screamed out her joy.

  Her body heaved relentlessly, and he held her by the hips tightly, kneeling on the floor, looking up into her face, gradually slowing the movements of his tongue. The spasms slowed and so did her gasps. Seconds later, Gracie fluttered open her eyes, and smiled at him.

  Dropping his pants to the floor, he laid her on the bed, and she turned to him with such eagerness he could scarcely keep from plunging into her immediately, seizing the moment. She lived life with ardor, and made love with abandon. What a wonderful, perfect woman she was. He’d known loving her would be sweet, but he hadn’t known it would be wild. He held her tightly. He couldn’t wait much longer, but he wanted to treasure the moment. And make it unforgettable for her.

  Gracie ground her body against his. Not yet. He kissed her gently, slowing her pace and passion until he could slip away for protection.

  The moment away from her heated body slowed his own labored breathing and stilled, temporarily, the pulsing dam that threatened to burst loose inside him.

  When he came back to bed, she held up her arms and he faced her, fitting his body to hers. Unable to wait one second longer, he entered her. With agonizing slowness, driving himself and her both crazy, he ground his body against Gracie’s. She returned the grinding, the bumps, digging her fingernails into his hips as she pulled him closer. As if he could get any closer. “Please,” she begged. “Now.”

  He plunged deeply. Now. The white heat burst into flame and he went over the edge. She opened her mouth to cry out, and he swallowed her cry just as her body seemed to swallow his joy.

  * * *

  “Merett,” Gracie said softly. She lay in his arms, her head on his shoulder, her breasts pressed against his broad chest, his hips touching hers, and wished the moment would never end. She’d never known lovemaking could be like this. It was the most beautiful experience of her life, and she wanted to weep. Merett nuzzled her cheek. A wayward tear escaped, and he captured it with his tongue. Rising on one elbow, he looked into her face, worry knit between his brows. “Sorry?”

  She’d never known such bliss, and who but Merett could have given her such a precious gift? “Not for a minute,” she said, slipping her arms around his neck. “Are you?”

  He shook his head and held her close, stroking her hair. “It was every bit as wonderful as I knew it would be.”

  Gracie felt protected in his arms, as if for once, someone was sheltering her from the world. Wishing they could lie there this way forever, she sighed contentedly.

  Merett moved away to sit up, and raising his knees, draped his arms over them. Moonbeams and the candle in the window cast a glow on his skin. His body was beautiful. The profile of his face was dear. “I should have said this before; I want to be fair to you,” he said, “and I know you don’t take this sort of thing lightly, nor do I.”

  “I’m not going to ask you to make an honest woman of me because of what happened tonight, Merett. Relax.” She sat up and drew warmth from the touch of his shoulder against hers. All she wanted was for him to love her.

  His expression remained troubled. “There are things in my life I haven’t resolved.”

  She knew he wasn’t ready to propose, but she could live with that. “I know, and I have my home and business and...” Did she
dare say you? “I don’t need more than that right now.”

  Merett dressed slowly, his face serious as if he was deep in thought. Was he trying to work up the nerve to say he loved her? Watching him from her bed, she waited until he’d picked up his coat before she slipped into a robe to walk down the steps with him, hand-in-hand. At the door, he turned to her.

  “I’m glad you understand about us just being friends, for now. More than friends, actually.” He smiled and ran a finger down her bare throat to the vee of her robe, dipping a finger to rub the top of her breast, and drawing a shiver from her. “I wouldn’t want to lose you, Gracie.”

  * * *

  Gracie watched darkness swallow the Jeep’s taillights as he drove off into the night, Merett’s words replaying in her mind, and suddenly the impact of what he’d said, hit her. I’m glad you understand about us just being friends.

  Not only was he asking her to settle for less than marriage, but less than love. He hadn’t said he loved her. If he had, she could have settled for that, for now. But he’d said, or more than friends with a clear implication of what he meant.

  She’d wanted to restore his optimism, but somewhere along the way, she’d come to want more. Now, she wanted to see him every day, wanted to face life beside him. She wanted to be loved. Needed to be loved. Love was something she’d never had. But he wanted to be friends, and lovers.

  Gracie stalked to the kitchen and poured herself some milk that she heated in the microwave. Glaring at the steaming white liquid, she reached out to pour it in the sink. A twinge of conscience halted her hand in midair. Wastefulness was sinful, and she could use the milk tomorrow. Standing, undecided, she let her hand rest on the counter. She loved Merett, not just as a friend, not just physically as she had in the heat of passion, but every fiber of him. She’d hidden from the truth for a long time, but last night on the couch, over breakfast this morning, and in the heat of tonight in bed, she knew—she’d loved him for a long time. In some ways, it had begun that Christmas Eve many years ago, but the love she felt tonight was more than gratitude or hero worship. Dumping the milk down the drain, she turned out the light and climbed the stairs to her room. Merett asked too much of her.

  * * *

  Merett looked out the window of his parents’ kitchen at the snow and remembered that Gracie hadn’t yet bought a shovel. Tomorrow, he’d buy one, and clean her walks for her.

  Pouring himself a glass of milk, he was almost sorry he’d taken her to bed. Their lovemaking had been hot and sweet, and she wanted to make love as much as he did. But she was a woman with strict moral principles, and he didn’t want to hurt her. Gracie was a woman who made you want to take care of her. She was a woman to love and be loved. But love meant commitment, and commitment would go soul-deep with her, and knowing that, he’d grown afraid. He’d committed before, and to make his wife happy, he’d sacrificed. The warmth of holidays. Closeness to family. Gift-giving. Church-going.

  The things Gracie valued were once of utmost importance to him. But what if he’d forgotten how to be the man he’d once been, and the drive for success was the only thing left inside him? He hadn’t been honest with Gracie the way he once would have been. He hadn’t told he’d been offered a job in New York, because he wasn’t sure he could turn down the thing he’d wanted most for the past year. And he hadn’t told her he loved her because she had everything she wanted here in Ferndale. Except him. If she wanted him.

  * * *

  Gracie, sitting down at the kitchen table with the stack of receipts from her holiday spending, saw exorbitant prices and foolish purchases. Not love wrapped in bright ribbons as she had when she bought the gifts. She’d awakened early, and pushing thoughts of Merett from her mind, decided to deal with first things first.

  Her drawing room roof was falling in while the zoning board hovered, ready to snatch away her livelihood. She’d wanted this Christmas to be her best ever, but she’d spent too much. Her hands trembled as she looked at receipt after receipt, and realizing how foolishly she’d acted, decided to call Frank, like Merett had suggested.

  “You live in a residential area,” he said, when she’d explained her problem, “but you haven’t even hung a shingle. So I don’t see why your business has suddenly become an issue.”

  “Do you think I’ll have to close Special Effects?”

  “It’s an old neighborhood, and there’s a chance the no-business rule isn’t iron-clad, if it’s there at all. If someone filed a protest, they may have done it without research. I’ll file an appeal after I check a few things. You’re not causing any of your neighbors any inconvenience or embarrassment, are you? No customers taking up parking spots, no large unsightly delivery trucks?”

  “I haven’t advertised in the newspaper. I haven’t had customers to the house. I sent flyers to businesses and mailed invitations to a lot of townspeople for a Holiday Open House, and that’s it.” Gracie closed her eyes and rubbed her temple. The open house was just days away. “How soon will they hold my hearing, Frank?”

  “A week probably. Let me make some phone calls and get back to you. And Gracie, don’t worry. Just go on like you have been for now.”

  Go on like she had been. Hold the open house to establish her business and herself in the community. Feeling somewhat consoled, Gracie hung up. Frank was nicer than she’d expected. She’d been gone twelve years, and never really knew him, but assumed from his insistence he didn’t want kids, that he must be a jerk.

  * * *

  Merett felt better since making love with Gracie than he had in a year. Maybe it was the physical release, but it seemed like a lot more. She’d said she could handle making love without commitment, and Gracie was an honest woman.

  When he arrived at the Daily Reporter, his secretary-receptionist was sorting mail. “Emma, do me a favor. Send a poinsettia, the biggest the flower shop has, to my mother at Sunny Haven.”

  “Of course, Merett.” Smiling, she fiddled with the letter opener on her desk, a stainless steel blade with a plastic handle that resembled a cheap kitchen knife. Maybe she’d like a new opener for Christmas, something a bit more elegant. Maybe he should buy all his employees gifts.

  Rolling up his shirtsleeves, he sat down in his cubicle. He’d like to send Gracie flowers, but maybe a bottle of champagne, delivered in person, would be better. After work. Smiling, he flexed his fingers over the computer keys.

  The disc with his year-end report lay on his desk at home, but there was a copy right here on the hard drive. He’d had intentions of finishing it the night the snowstorm kept him at Gracie’s. The next night—last night—he’d returned and forgotten everything. Except the way she’d felt in his arms.

  Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Merett did a search for the section of his report that read “Next Year’s Goals.” Fingers on the keys, he paused, wondering what his mother meant when she said…I knew you’d take care of her, Merett.

  Damn, he’d forgotten to find Gracie a roofer. He picked up the telephone.

  Not one of them could come before Friday morning. That was cutting it close. And what about the zoning board? He telephoned Frank, and was surprised to hear Gracie had talked to him herself.

  “Do you know of anyone who might want to cause her trouble, Merett?” Frank asked. “It seems to me this is an act of vengeance.”

  “No one would ever want to hurt Gracie. She’s an angel.”

  Frank sighed loudly. “Well, if you think of anyone in her neighborhood.”

  “Beryl.” It came to Merett like a bolt of lightning. “Beryl Marcum Cosgrove lives right behind Gracie.”

  “I know who you mean. Does she have good reason?”

  “Not at all, but Beryl promised to get even with me for a…er…brush-off and…”

  “She thought Gracie and Hope were poor trash.” Frank’s voice rose in excitement. “Now, Grace is living in her neighborhood, and that doesn’t sit well with Mrs. High and Mighty. Add setting her sites on you, learning you’re chummy
with Gracie, and that’s it. You’ve been a big help, Merett.”

  Frank was a damned good lawyer, putting everything together like that. Merett hadn’t thought of personal vendettas when he tried to imagine why anyone would object to such a small business. Small business. Hot dog! He’d print Gracie’s letter-to-the-editor and write an editorial in favor of small business, citing Gracie’s courage. There was nothing maudlin about her roots; people in Ferndale already knew she grew up poor. He’d do a piece about a brave woman starting a small company, depending on townspeople for loyalty and support. On Saturday morning, the day of her Open House, he’d print the letters of response and support that came rolling in, plus the editorial.

  It had been three days since Tom called, and he’d want an answer soon. But Merett had important things to do before he could think about the New York job.

  * * *

  When Gracie finished decorating the home of one of Ferndale’s wealthier families, Mrs. Tate asked her to stay for lunch. The offer touched Gracie. “I’d enjoy that so much, but I promised to meet my sister for lunch today.”

  “Who would have thought a Singleton would ever be invited to lunch at the Tate manor?” Hope asked, beaming her pleasure at the story Gracie shared over a steaming bowl of vegetable soup.

  Hope still looked wan, but some of the sparkle had come back into her eyes. “You know something, Hopie? I think you’re beginning to get that...” Grace leaned closer, careful not to dip the bow of her candy-striped blouse in her plate of stew. “Glow.”

  Hope concentrated on her spoon, dipping it in and out of her bowl.