Jon paused when she didn’t immediately follow him into the house for coffee. “Do you have time?” he asked.
Since their bout of kissing, Maryellen had managed to avoid spending time alone with Jon. He hadn’t pressured her or questioned her reasons. “I…can’t stay,” she said.
No argument came. It was almost as if he’d expected her to decline.
“I’ll get Katie’s things for you,” he said.
Unsure what prompted her, Maryellen walked inside with him. “How’s everything going at The Lighthouse?” she asked, making casual conversation. She found the success of Seth and Justine’s restaurant particularly gratifying, knowing Jon was employed as head chef. People raved about his innovative dishes. He was a talented, complex man.
Jon gathered up Katie’s favorite blanket and stuffed it into her diaper bag. He found a toy rattle, which he also stuck in the bag.
“I heard it’s impossible to get a reservation for the weekends.”
He shrugged, then looked up, his dark gaze probing hers. “Do you need one?”
“No, no,” she said, not understanding the change in his mood.
“No Saturday-night date?” he pried.
Maryellen laughed. “Hardly.”
“You didn’t get your hair styled to impress me, now did you?”
“I did it for me, Jon.”
His muscles relaxed as he slipped the strap of the diaper bag over his shoulder and gave her a brief smile. She was sure, for a moment, that he wanted to kiss her. “That’s comforting to hear,” he muttered.
His concern—was it jealousy?—was so endearing, she had to resist touching him. In an effort to hide her attraction, she said, “The girls at the nail shop said how wonderful the food at The Lighthouse is.” Terri had recently dined at the restaurant. Rachel, too.
“Thank them for me,” he said in an offhand manner, as if compliments embarrassed him.
“They asked me if I knew where you got your training. I don’t believe you ever mentioned it.” Terri had, in fact, asked her that, and Maryellen took advantage of her friend’s interest to ask a question she herself had wondered about.
“You’re right, I didn’t.” His response was blunt. Clearly he didn’t welcome any further inquiries.
“But you must have been formally trained to—”
“I wasn’t.” He glanced pointedly at his watch. “I need to get ready for work.”
Maryellen was stunned. Every previous time she’d been to Jon’s place, he’d practically thrown himself in front of her car to detain her. Now it seemed he couldn’t get rid of her fast enough.
Absently Maryellen looped a strand of hair around her ear, forgetting once again that her curls were much shorter now than they’d been a few hours earlier. This reaction of Jon’s was so confusing.
Silently he walked her to the car and handed her the diaper bag. “Do you have your work schedule for next week?” she asked.
“Not yet.” He stood beside her vehicle while she strapped Katie into her carrier in the back seat.
When she straightened, she noticed that his attention appeared to be elsewhere. “All right,” she said, “then I’ll wait to hear from you.”
He nodded.
She hesitated, sorry to end their time on such a negative note, but she was unsure what had gone wrong or why. “Goodbye, and…thank you.”
He stepped back from her car and Maryellen got inside and slid the key into the ignition. As she pulled away, she looked in her rearview mirror. Jon was still standing there.
Thirteen
“Are we going to have a big turkey like Mom always cooked?” Eddie asked Thanksgiving morning.
Zach wasn’t fully awake yet, and already his son was demanding answers to questions he could barely comprehend. “Sure,” he said sleepily as he sat up in bed. He glanced at the clock radio and saw that it was only eight. Sleeping in, apparently, was not an option.
“Don’t you think you should put it in the oven now?” Eddie asked.
The turkey was supposed to be in the oven? This early? Then Zach remembered he’d already solved this issue at the local grocery store. The national chain offered fully cooked Thanksgiving dinners, complete with a thirteen-pound turkey, mashed potatoes, giblet gravy, plus dressing. As a bonus, they threw in a can of cranberry sauce and a pumpkin pie.
“Mom always had the turkey in the oven early in the morning, don’t you remember?” Eddie was almost bouncing on Zach’s bed.
Frankly Zach didn’t remember. What he recalled was the tension during Thanksgiving dinner last year, when he’d been fighting with Rosie. They’d barely managed to get through the day without a major blowup. This year was different. This year it was Zach and the kids and no one else.
According to the terms of the divorce, Zach had been awarded all the major holidays, including Thanksgiving, but Rosie got Christmas Day. He could have Allison and Eddie Christmas Eve, but only until midnight. Heaven forbid if he stayed here one minute past. He remembered Rosie’s anger as he’d disputed those terms and suspected she’d welcome the opportunity to drag him back into court. So much for peace and goodwill, he mused darkly. During the crisis precipitated by Allison’s rebellious behavior, he and Rosie had been aligned in their views and actions, but things had quickly reverted to the earlier animosity.
“Is Allison up?” Zach asked.
Eddie frowned and shook his head. “Do you want me to set the table for dinner?”
“Can we have breakfast first?” Zach mumbled, although he was beginning to share his son’s enthusiasm.
“Do we have to?” Eddie whined. “I want stuffing. It’s my favorite part of the dinner.”
“Mine, too,” Zach confided. Rosie might have her faults as a cook, but she did make the most incredible dressing. His mouth started to water before he remembered that Rosie wouldn’t be stuffing the bird this year. Albertson’s would.
While Zach showered, shaved and dressed, Eddie watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade on television. Zach was pleasantly surprised to find Allison awake and sitting in the family room. She lounged on the sofa with her bare feet braced on the edge of the coffee table while she leafed through the newspaper.
“Morning,” Zach greeted her, uncertain what to expect in response. It was a day-today struggle with his daughter.
Her reply was half growl and half human. Zach had suggested a truce over the holiday, and Allison had agreed, but she’d let it be known that she was doing him a big favor and he should be grateful.
“What are you reading?” he asked, sinking down onto the sofa next to her. If Allison was willing to make an effort, then so could he. He held a cup of coffee in his hand and had half an eye on the television screen.
“The ads.”
“Advertisements?” Zach asked, her answer catching him off guard.
Eddie raced into the kitchen and returned with a huge bowl of cold cereal. Milk sloshed over the edges as he lowered himself to a cross-legged position on the floor. Zach was about to send him back to the