I'll Be Home for Christmas and One Golden Christmas: I'll Be Home For Christmas / One Golden Christmas

“No reason,” she said, busying herself by putting out more cans of soda for his guests. “I was just watching you work the crowd.”

“And you disapprove?”

Myla gave him a direct stare. “No, I’m just surprised. One minute you’re acting like a regular grizzly bear and the next you’re turning on the charm.”

Recalling their earlier encounter right here in this room, Nick replied, “Look, I’m sorry I got angry about the decorations and the tree. You were smart to spruce this place up…and it looks wonderful. Perfect.”

“Glad you approve,” she said, not at all convinced of his sincerity.

Sensing that she didn’t exactly trust his motives, Nick smiled over at her. “I do approve. So far, everything’s going according to schedule. And I owe that to you.”

Before she could respond, he turned away to greet some more guests, leaving her with the memory of his aftershave. She’d smelled it earlier when he’d entered the kitchen. He was a handsome man. A self-reliant man, who liked to rule over his domain.

This was his world, not hers. She’d had a similar life with her husband, but now…now, she intended to make her own way, with her faith to shield and guide her. She wouldn’t put her trust in another ruthless man. And Nick Rudolph was exactly that.

She watched him play host to the hilt as he mixed business with pleasure and made her feel like an out-of-place Cinderella watching the prince dance with all the other girls at the ball.

“Bill, you rascal,” Nick said, laughing as he playfully slapped the tall, blond-headed man on the back. “How are things looking for your re-election to the Senate? Can I depend on you down in Baton Rouge?”

“Can I depend on your donation to my next campaign?” Bill countered with a hearty laugh, thus beginning a rather long and detailed account of his political aspirations. His wife, a slender brunette in a pricey red pantsuit gave a bored smile as her eyes fell across Myla, then moved on.

The look of dismissal galled Myla, but she knew her place. She’d been poor before she married Sonny Howell. And now, she’d come full circle. She could afford to be gracious to the woman; she’d once been so like her.

Once again, Nick excused himself from his guest to head toward Myla with a purposeful stride. Afraid that she’d done something wrong again, she moved to meet him.

“Everyone’s here except—” Nick stopped in mid-sentence when a loud screeching noise, followed by a bellowing bark and the crash of dishes, rose from the back of the huge house. “What was that?”

The doors of the kitchen burst open as a tall woman with flowing blond hair ran into the room, her black dress clinging to her slender curves.

“Carolyn?” Nick looked surprised, then laughed in relief. “Leave it to you to make a grand entrance.”

The lovely Carolyn fumed with indignation. “Nick Rudolph, how dare you laugh at me? It’s bad enough that you stood me up last night, but now this. You’ve got to do something!”

“Do what?” Nick looked confused. “What’s the matter?”

The other guests had gathered around now, each waiting and watching as Carolyn pulled at a torn spot in her black hose. “It’s Pooky,” she said on a low moan. “He’s in the kitchen—”

Another wailing scream rose from the kitchen, followed by a growl and another scream, this one human. Several loud crashes joined in with the screams.

Nick plopped his glass down on a walnut table. “What’s going on in there?”

Carolyn moaned again and tugged at her hair. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Nick. I brought Pooky along with me to ward off muggers and when I went to put him in Henny’s room, a…a cat ran out and now Pooky’s chasing the crazed creature around the kitchen and when I tried to stop him, well…that cat lurched into my leg and well, look, a fifteen-dollar pair of nylons ruined.” Tossing her evening bag and black velvet cape into Nick’s face, she added, “And I’m bleeding. You know I’m allergic to cats!”

The uproar in the kitchen increased now, the crowd moving in closer, each guest hovering near the swinging doors, afraid to go in and see what Pooky and the mysterious cat were doing to each other.

“Cat?” Nick shook his head. “I don’t have a cat.”

Another scream brought Myla into action. Pushing through the dazed spectators, she called to Nick, “The children!”

“Children?” Carolyn eyed Nick suspiciously. “I thought I saw something unusual hiding behind Henny’s couch. Nick, what’s going on here?”

Nick looked over at Carolyn, prepared to explain everything until he heard Myla’s low agony-filled moan. That moan did not bode well, not at all. Giving Carolyn’s things to the skinny brunette in red, he dashed toward the kitchen. The sight that greeted him caused him to echo the same low-pitched moan.

A tabby cat, scrawny and hissing, sat on a blade of the still ceiling fan, one paw extended in the attack position while a howling, barking Saint Bernard sat underneath, his tongue fairly hanging out of his big, toothy mouth as he waited for the next chase to begin.

Patrick sat in the middle of the counter, surrounded by what had once been the carefully arranged entrees for the dinner party. Now those entrees were not only arranged all over the counter, but also all over Patrick and all over the once white tile floor. Jesse hovered in the doorway leading to Henny’s apartment, her wails matching pitch with the cat’s. The Saint Bernard, tired of playing chase with the pitiful cat, turned and started lapping up what remained of the platter of roast that Myla had carved so lovingly and garnished with parsley and star-burst carved cherry tomatoes.

Myla’s eyes met Nick’s. Of their own accord, her hands came up to cover her face. He’s going to send all of us packing, she thought.

Nick’s face burned with a rage born of shock. “What happened here?” His voice grew deeper and more deadly with each word. “Would someone like to tell me what in blazes happened in here?”

The room, filled with twelve warm, curious bodies, remained silent, except for the occasional hissing from the ceiling fan and the melodious lapping on the tile floor.

“I’m waiting.” Nick circled the carnage, his eyes brown with a fire of rage. “I want some answers, now!”

Finally, a feeble voice rallied from the direction of Henny’s room. Jesse stepped forward, shivering with fear, her eyes bright with freshly shed tears. “Mamma, we forgot to tell you about the cat,” she said before she burst into another round of high-pitched sobs

Chapter Three

The door leading from the garage burst open. Lydia bounced into the room, wearing a black crepe dressy pantsuit, her blond bob shining as brightly as her diamond earrings.

Myla recognized her from the many pictures of Nick and Lydia hanging around the house. But Carolyn…was she Nick’s girlfriend? Nick had been busy doing a good deed last night and now look what it had caused him. Even Lydia’s upbeat mood didn’t help the situation.

“Sorry I’m late,” she began, her earrings twinkling like twin stars, “but I had to stop by—” Her eyes registered shock for a split second before she burst out in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. “Food fight? Nick, why didn’t you tell me? You know how I love to throw my food at you!”

“Not now, Lydia,” Nick said, his growl more pronounced than the drooling Pooky’s. “We’ve had a bit of an accident and I was just trying to get to the bottom of it.”

“Looks like Pooky here beat you to it,” Lydia countered, rushing forward to pet the massive Saint Bernard. “Hey, boy, what did you get into this time?”

“It’s not Pooky’s fault,” Carolyn said as she sidestepped a pile of shrimp dip to comfort the hyper dog. “I walked over for the party, so I brought Pooky with me. I had no idea that a cat and two strange children would attack us when we entered the back door.”

“Next time, try using the front door like the other guests,” Lydia replied sweetly, though her eyes indicated she felt anything but sweet.

“Ladies, please,” Nick said, raking a hand through his crisp dark curls. Turning to Myla, he watched as she knelt to comfort her sobbing daughter. Instantly, he regretted his anger from before. “Jesse, how’d we manage to acquire a cat?” he asked, his tone deceptively soft, his eyes centered on Myla as if to say this is your fault.

Jesse looked up to her mother for reassurance. Myla, stung by Nick’s anger and by Carolyn’s highhanded attitude toward her children, shot him a defiant look. Thinking she could kiss this new job goodbye, she patted Jesse on the shoulder. “Just tell the truth, honey.”

Jesse took a deep breath to clear away another round of sobs. “Mr. Nick, I’m sorry. But today when Momma was getting stuff ready for your party, me and Patrick went for a walk out in the backyard. We weren’t supposed to, ‘cause I’m sick and Patrick gets into stuff, but we snuck out…. Anyway, we heard a cat meowing behind that big building by the pool. Patrick came back in the house when Momma wasn’t looking and got some food for the cat. It was real hungry.” Sniffing, she looked up at Nick. “We wanted to help it so it wouldn’t freeze to death, like you helped us, Mr. Nick.” She wiped her nose again with her hand, her big blue-green eyes wide with the importance of her confession.

Nick looked uncomfortable, but Myla saw the touch of warmth Jesse’s innocent words had provoked in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the cat, sweetie?” she asked her daughter, her heart breaking. Jesse loved animals. She’d never let one starve or stay out in the cold, in spite of her allergies around certain animals. Hunger wasn’t pretty—in animals or humans.

“We were afraid you’d make us let it go,” Jesse said, dropping her eyes to the floor.

“Yeah, and we didn’t want Mr. Nick to kick us out,” Patrick piped up as he held out his dip-covered fingers. “I tried to catch it, Mamma, but it was too fast. And besides, I’m scared of that big dog.”

“Pooky wouldn’t hurt a flea,” Carolyn protested, looking from one child to the other accusingly. Then she turned to glare up at Nick. “You told me you helped some people out last night; you didn’t tell me they were staying in your home.”