The Heart of Christmas

“What?” Eve prompted.

“Your parents are back.”

Eve’s hand flew to her mouth and she spoke through her fingers. “No!”

“Yes. They’re waiting downstairs in the small parlor. They feel terrible that they didn’t make it in time for your birthday, so they had the part for the RV flown in, which cost them a lot more, and now they’re anxious to give you their present.”

Her parents were too good. They had to be the best, most supportive people in the world, which was partly why Eve felt so embarrassed about her recent behavior.

“You don’t think they’ll hear about last night....”

“No! Of course not! Who’d tell them?” Cheyenne plastered a reassuring smile on her face, but Eve could see right through it.

“You do think they’ll hear.”

She let her smile wilt. “I’m afraid they might. We are talking about Noelle. When Kyle dropped by to give her his spousal maintenance, she had that other waitress over—Casey? He said they were talking and laughing about...the situation.”

Casey hadn’t even been working on Thursday night.

Eve closed her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose. She had to get out of this town. She felt trapped, stifled. As much as she loved Little Mary’s and Whiskey Creek and all the people she’d grown up with, she needed something new. But it seemed odd that this realization had burst upon her so suddenly. Did other people question where they were in life at only thirty-five? Was she having a midlife crisis before she ever hit midlife?

Maybe she should take whatever money she’d saved and travel across Europe....

“I’ll finish up,” Cheyenne said. “What’s left?”

“Nothing.” As Eve wound up the vacuum cord, she thought once more about telling Cheyenne that Brent Taylor was the man she’d slept with, but changed her mind. She didn’t want Cheyenne to find out that he’d lied to her about his name. And even if he didn’t check out today, he wouldn’t be in Whiskey Creek for long.

“Want me to go down with you?” Cheyenne asked. “Would that help you face them?”

“No. I’ve got to put the vacuum away first—and I’m not going to let you carry it down those stairs so don’t even offer. Just tell them I’m coming.”

Cheyenne gave her a quick hug. “You’re in your thirties. If they do hear about last night, they probably won’t say anything.”

Of course they wouldn’t. They weren’t intrusive. It was what they’d think that troubled Eve.

Again, she felt a desperate need for more space, a change of scenery, a chance to figure out if the person she’d become was the person she wanted to be. Maybe she’d been treading water, hoping for the kind of love some of her friends had found, but it didn’t look as though that was going to happen for her. At least not here... Maybe it took her thirty-fifth birthday to make her realize she had to go in a different direction.

She listened to Cheyenne’s footsteps recede. Then she lifted up the vacuum. But before she could collect her cleaning bucket, she noticed the luggage tag on Brent Taylor’s suitcase and set the vacuum down.

There was his personal information. She should make a note of it in case there was some reason he didn’t want to give it out. Say...if the FBI happened to be looking for him. If she was going to be stupid enough to sleep with a stranger, a possible fugitive from the law, she should do what she could to point the police in the right direction if they came knocking at her door.

But the tag didn’t say the suitcase belonged to a Brent Taylor, or even a Jared. Taylor Jackson was written in the same handwriting as the names on the pad. There was no address. Just a number, which she keyed into the notes section of her phone.

Had he borrowed someone else’s luggage?

It was possible. But the fact that he’d used two names already gave her the feeling it was more significant than that.

What was going on with this guy? Last night he’d been the perfect lover. Attentive and responsive. The more she remembered about being with him, the more convinced she became that he’d provided the best sex she’d ever had. He’d seemed to enjoy himself, too. Yet this morning, after everything they’d done, he would scarcely give her the time of day, had acted particularly odd when she asked for his full name and, even though he’d said he was Jared, he’d checked in as Brent Taylor and his bag indicated it belonged to a Taylor Jackson.

Knowing she had to go and greet her parents, she grabbed her cleaning stuff and hurried out, closing the door behind her. But as she descended the stairs, she figured she was probably lucky that Jared or Brent or Taylor—whoever he was—didn’t want anything more to do with her.

4 (#ulink_bf210bb1-3323-5684-9ec0-b24a99992ead)

“Honey, we’re so sorry we missed your birthday. I can’t believe we had engine trouble!” Eve’s mother looked genuinely distraught as she pulled Eve in for a hug. “We got back as soon as we could.”

“You shouldn’t have gone to the extra expense of having that engine part flown in,” Eve said. “I can’t believe you did. I assumed we’d just celebrate whenever you could get back.”

Her father embraced her as soon as her mother let go. “Your birthday’s in December, so that means it can get swallowed up by the holidays. We try not to let that happen. You’re too important to us.”

She cringed as she thought of Noelle and the pleasure she was likely taking in ruining Eve’s reputation. “Thanks, Dad.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and jingled his change. “The B and B looks great, by the way. You’ve done an outstanding job, created the very picture of a Victorian Christmas.”

They’d been in Texas for three weeks, having Thanksgiving with her brothers, who now owned a bar together in Austin. “Better than usual?”

“I’d say so,” he replied.

“It’s the new icicle lights,” she told him. “They’re pretty hanging from such a steeply pitched roof.” She’d hired a company to hang those lights, and all the others on the exterior. But she and Cheyenne had done everything else. The tree alone had taken one full day—the Sunday after Thanksgiving, when they traditionally made the switch from harvest decor to evergreen and holly. The day after that, she’d added wreaths with red ribbon at every window, garland above each door, on every mantel and around every banister and mistletoe hanging over the tables in the dining room. This was usually Eve’s favorite time of year. The entire town waited to see what she’d do with the inn, and she took great pride in making it stand out like a beacon of hope for the weary traveler—or even just the weary of heart.

“It’s everything,” he said. “We drove past A Room with A View. It can’t even compare.”

Because the owners didn’t understand how the beauty she created encouraged the whole town to stop and reflect. Her competitor gave the season a passing nod by putting up a bunch of plastic Santas and reindeer and hanging giant ornaments from the tree in the front yard, all of which looked tacky rather than elegant. But as Eve followed her father’s eye to the candles she’d placed so they could be seen from the street, she didn’t feel the wonder and magic she used to feel. She was afraid she might be going through the exact same motions for the rest of her life—only without Cheyenne, because she knew that Cheyenne wouldn’t work at the inn forever.

“You told us you’re planning to go to San Francisco with your friends tonight,” her mother said, “so I was hoping we could have you over for dinner tomorrow after you get off work. I’ll make your favorite cake, the carrot one, and get some ice cream.”

“Of course,” Eve said. “Thank you. That sounds delicious.”

“And...” Her mother rummaged in her huge purse and finally pulled out a small, wrapped gift. “I’d like you to open your present right now, since you couldn’t do it yesterday.”

Guilt for behaving in a manner that would reflect poorly on her parents once again swept over Eve. What had she been thinking last night? She’d acted no better than Noelle....

“Go ahead,” her father urged as her mother handed her a small box.

Eve hoped it wasn’t expensive. Her parents often tried to do too much. But as soon as she tore off the wrapping and opened the gift, she could see that it was pricy. A gold watch, with diamonds around the face. “Wow,” she breathed.

“Do you like it?” The twinkle in her mother’s eye showed how excited she was to give her daughter such a wonderful gift.

“I love it,” Eve said, “but...it’s too generous. You guys have to be careful now that you’re retired, especially with what we’ve been through trying to save the inn. You don’t have the savings you used to—”

“Don’t worry about that,” her father interrupted. “You deserve whatever we can give you. You’ve worked so hard, been the perfect daughter.”

Perfect. That word pricked her conscience, and she went over and closed the door. “I really love the watch. It’s beautiful.”

Her mother and father exchanged a look. “But...”

They’d heard the resignation in her tone.

“I’m definitely not perfect. As a matter of fact, I’ve done something I need to tell you about before you hear it from someone else.”