Chris shook her head. “I have to go to work.” She looked at Ken. “Measure the oven before you go, and make sure she buys a bird that fits in there.”
Ken pushed away from the table. “I’ll drive you to the rink. Edna and I need the truck to go shopping.”
Chris zipped her jacket collar high around her throat as she waited for the heater to warm the truck. “You’re being a good sport about Aunt Edna and her theories on courtship and Thanksgiving.”
“I’m enjoying every minute of it.”
Chris slouched in her seat. “To tell you the truth, I’m kind of jealous. I wish I could order the turkey and bake the pies. And I wish I could spend more time with Lucy. She was gone all week. She came home with a cold, and I only got to see her for an hour and a half at supper.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her mitten. “Boy, this is dumb. I feel like an idiot.”
“It’s not dumb. I understand how you feel. I think it must be hard to be a working mother.”
Chris searched her pockets for a tissue. She blew her nose and reached out to Ken in the darkness. “Thanks.”
His voice was husky when he spoke. “Let’s change the subject and pump you up for coaching. Who do you have lessons with today?”
Chris redirected her emotions to his suggestion. She listed her itinerary and soon found herself babbling about Alex, and how she intended to change the last thirty seconds of her routine to include a double Lutz.
From the corner of her eye Chris noticed a flash of black hair and swarthy beard approach the rink barrier. She checked her watch to find that the last twenty-minute lesson of the morning was over. Ken had obviously listened to her schedule this morning and remembered when her lunch break would be. She gave her skater a few last minute words of encouragement and glided over toward Ken, who waved and bent to hoist a heavily bundled Lucy into his arms so she could see her mother over the guardrail.
Lucy squealed and clapped her hands in delight. “Mommy!”
Suddenly, they were surrounded by skaters who hovered over the little girl. She was trundled onto the ice to slide among them. She laughed and fell. She was set back on her feet and cooed over, and carefully pulled and pushed around the rink. Chris stood quietly, enjoying the scene. “This is nice. Thank you for bringing Lucy.”
“Edna didn’t want to send her to school with a cold, but she said it would be all right to bundle her up and bring her in for lunch with you.”
Lucy made her way back to her mother. Her eyes were shiny with excitement of the day. “Mommy, wait till you see! We’re going on a picnic. Ken arranged it all.” She tugged at Chris’ sleeve. “Hurry and get your skates off.”
Chris led the way to the lounge, where she sat on a bench and unlaced her skates. “A picnic? It must be thirty degrees outside.”
“It is,” Lucy laughed. “It’s real cold. And it’s snowing. Great big flakes—but they melt right away.”
“You guys wait right here while I put my skates away and get my shoes.”
“And your coat,” Lucy called. “Don’t forget your coat.”
Chris followed Lucy and Ken into the parking lot. “This is a mystery,” she said to Lucy. “How are we going to have a picnic?”
Lucy ran to the truck. “Ken got a cap on the truck. We spent all morning fixing it up.”
Ken opened the back of the truck and a rush of warm air swirled out to greet them. Lucy climbed in and settled herself on the layers of quilts. “See? It has a heater to keep it warm.”
Chris and Ken followed the little girl in and closed the gate behind them. Chris sat cross-legged and looked around. The cap was fiber-glass, lined with walnut paneling. Snowflakes scudded past the large windows. A small battery-powered lamp bathed the interior in soft light. Lucy’s favorite books were scattered in a corner, keeping company with her dolls, Fanny and Snuffy. Chris watched her daughter. This was the most fun she’d ever had with a cold, she thought. She must have spent all morning snuggled in this camper.
Ken opened the lid on a large wicker hamper. He spread a red checkered tablecloth over the quilts. “Aunt Edna packed a feast,” he exclaimed. “Fried chicken, fresh-baked biscuits, coleslaw, and apple crisp for dessert.”
When they were done eating, they lay back and took turns reading story books until it was time for Chris to go back to work. She gave Lucy a hug and a kiss and buckled her into the front seat.
“How about me?” Ken asked. “Do I get a hug and a kiss, too?”
Lucy’s eyes grew large and round. “Mommy, are you going to kiss Ken?”
“You bet!” She laughed, throwing her arms around him as he stood by the passenger side door. “This was the nicest surprise I’ve ever had.” She gave him a big smackeroo-type kiss that sent Lucy off into gales of giggles. Ken’s eyes met hers, and they exchanged looks of tender affection. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Ken deposited a friendly kiss on the tip of her nose and pushed her toward the rink. “See you later.”
Bitsy was waiting for her. “I know him,” she groaned. “It’s driving me nuts. I can’t figure out how I know him.”
“Maybe he just looks like someone you know. Some other incredibly handsome man.”
“No. It’s his eyes. They’re so dark—midnight blue. And those thick black lashes. I’d kill for those lashes.”
“Yeah. He’d be great in mascara ads.”
Chris switched off the light on her night table and gave herself a mental hug. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and it would be the best Thanksgiving ever. All week she’d come home to a household that was in full preparation for a holiday. On Monday, Edna had proudly informed her that Ken now knew how to make pumpkin pie. Ken had good-naturedly appraised his flour-smudged shirt and suggested that he knew how to scrub pie bowls and clean flour-dusted countertops, but he doubted if he could make a pie. Tuesday evening, he sported a blood-stained, bandaged thumb and declared that if he lived to be a hundred he didn’t ever want to slice up another head of cabbage. Today, he’d spent the afternoon with Lucy, coloring page after page of Pilgrims and turkeys in her Thanksgiving coloring book. He had a definite flair with a box of crayons. She smiled. He made purple turkeys and green Pilgrims and showed a decided preference for orange sky.
There had been no more mention of marriage, but Chris knew Edna and Ken had a plan. They got along in noisy harmony interlaced with friendly teasing and obvious affection. Meanwhile, Ken had maintained his distance, ending each night with a loving but brief kiss at the foot of the stairs.
It was growing tedious. Chris felt her mood changing from one of contented happiness to heated exasperation. She thrashed from side to side, ending in a tangle of sheets and blankets. Dammit, there hadn’t been a man in her life for seven years, and now all of a sudden she was in a dither because she had to sleep alone for a week. Darn that Ken Callahan, anyway. See what a bother men are? She got up and straightened the bed, then she threw herself back into it with a “Hrmmph.” And why is he in such perfect control? Why isn’t he frothing at the mouth, like me? She punched her pillow and snarled. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, she thought rebelliously, it was a man with morals.
The floor creaked just outside her door. She lay dead still and listened. Had she awakened Lucy with her rumblings? Chris blinked as the door cracked open and a sliver of light spilled across the dark carpet.
“Chris?” Ken whispered.
Chris propped herself up on her elbows and debated attacking him before he got away.
“What are you doing here?” If it had anything to do with tomorrow’s turkey…she’d kill him.
He closed the door carefully behind him and crept to the edge of the bed. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Hmmmmm,” she purred at his bare chest and revealing jeans.
His eyes glittered feverishly as he took in the rumpled sheets and wild orange hair. “You couldn’t sleep, either?”
Chris thought the heat had become unbearable. If she didn’t get her nightgown off soon she w
ould surely slither from the bed in a pool of lust and sweat. She swallowed and pressed her knees together and tried to sound casual. “I always get excited before a holiday.”
“Me, too.” He sat on the edge of the bed and unbuttoned the top button of her nightgown. “I’m so excited I’m in pain.”
“They say pain builds character.”
Two more buttons popped open. “I certainly hope so, because if Edna catches me in here I’m going to be in a lot of pain.”
“Maybe you should leave,” Chris teased.
“Not on your life.” He eased her nightgown over her shoulders. His lips trailed lingering kisses along the curve of her neck as he spoke. “I wanted to give you some time to get to know me. And I didn’t want to create an awkward situation between you and Edna and Lucy.” His mouth moved just inches from hers. “Honey, I’m so lonely for you. I’ve taken so many cold showers…the inside of my cast is starting to mold.” His lips left a trail of fire down her neck as he headed to softer, more intimate places.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Chris shut her eyes tight in a rush of overwhelming love. She had felt oddly married to him at the kitchen key exchange, and now something else had been exchanged. Something very sacred and forever binding. She fell asleep, happily wrapped in his arms.
At four-thirty A.M. Chris’ bedside alarm rang out with enough fervor to awaken even the most intrepid sleeper.
Ken opened one eye and uttered a brief but effective expletive.
Chris slammed her fist down on the off button.
“Why is your alarm set for four-thirty on Thanksgiving morning?”
“Force of habit. I must have done it automatically.”
Slippered feet padded past the bedroom door en route to the bathroom down the hall. “You’d think a body could sleep on Thanksgiving morning,” Edna mumbled. “You’d think people would know enough to shut their alarms off when a holiday comes around. You’d think—” Her words were cut short by the closing of the bathroom door.
Ken turned to Chris with a look of utter horror. “I’m a dead man.”
“It’s okay.” Chris snuggled closer. “When she’s done in the bathroom she’ll go back to her room to get dressed, and you can sneak downstairs.”
“I thought this only happened on daytime television.”
“Daytime television doesn’t have anything comparable to Aunt Edna.”
Edna sagged in her seat, her eyes slightly glazed, her mouth hanging slack in her round pleasant face. “I can’t eat another bite. I shouldn’t have had that last piece of pie.”
Ken smiled with gluttonous satisfaction. “It was delicious. All of it.”
Chris looked at the turkey carcass with morose skepticism. “We’ll never finish it. Not in a million years.”
“It was a nice big bird,” Edna sighed.
“It’s as big as an ostrich,” Chris said.
Lucy wriggled in her seat. “Mommy, we’ve been sitting at this table forever.”
Ken stood and stretched. “Do you know how to play checkers?” he asked Lucy.
“Yup.”
“I bet if we get really involved in a good game of checkers we could get out of cleaning up this messy table.”
Lucy giggled and ran to get the checkerboard.
After an afternoon of games and a light supper, Lucy fell asleep in front of the tele vision set.
“Isn’t she something?” Edna clucked. “All done in by Thanksgiving.”
“This was the best Thanksgiving ever,” Chris proclaimed.
Ken grinned. “It isn’t over yet.”
Edna checked her watch. “Seven o’clock,” she said. There was an edge of expectancy to her voice. Her eyes rounded slightly and seemed to pull the corners of her mouth up into a secretive smile.
Ken slouched casually into a corner of the big overstuffed couch. He showed none of the eager anticipation that was apparent in Edna, but his face reflected the same veiled delight.
As if on cue, a knock sounded at the front door. Edna stopped rocking for a moment. “There’s someone at the door.”
Chris looked from Edna to Ken. She sensed a conspiracy.
Edna resumed her rocking. Creak. The chair tipped backward on its wooden rocker. Stomp. Edna’s feet slapped the floor. Creak, stomp. Creak, stomp. “Well for goodness’ sake,” she shouted with a final stomp. “Isn’t anyone going to get the door?”
Ken pulled Chris to her feet and pushed her toward the stairs. “Come on…we’ll answer the door.”
Edna followed close behind. “Me, too. I’ll help you answer the door.”
Smells fishy, Chris thought. Now what? A giant turkey with a bunch of balloons?
Chris switched the porch light on and opened the door to a young man dressed in formal livery. He removed his black top hat, smiled respectfully, and bowed. Chris looked beyond him, to the conveyance parked at the curb, and clapped her hands to her mouth. “Horses!”
The two perfectly matched chestnuts turned their heads at the sound of her voice but remained docilely still. Their leather harnesses were attached to a gleaming black carriage equipped with elegant candlelit lamps.
“Don’t that beat all,” Edna exclaimed.
Ken draped a jacket over Chris’ shoulders and guided her toward the carriage. “Pretty romantic, huh?”
Chris tipped her head back and laughed—he sounded so pleased with himself. “Yeah, pretty romantic.”
Chris and Ken settled into the back seat of the open carriage and snuggled together under a thick red plaid lap robe, as the driver clucked to his horses and began to drive sedately through the winding streets of adjoining subdivisions. Chris closed her eyes and enjoyed the crisp wintry air redolent of oiled leather and warm horses and Ken’s spicy cologne. She tilted her head to see the scattering of early-evening stars blinking behind scudding moon-tinged clouds. “This is so nice. I love this.”
Ken tucked the blanket securely around them and slid his hand covertly under her ski jacket, seeking the silken heated skin under her sweater. Their eyes met in an unspoken affirmation of love. She parted her lips in anticipation of his kiss. “I love you,” he told her as his tongue tasted her sweetness. “I love everything about you.” He kissed her tenderly. “And I love your daughter. I even love Aunt Edna.”
She knew he loved her and Edna and Lucy. And she knew what this was all about. This was a better proposal. This was the real thing, and this was going to require a serious answer.
Ken reached into his jacket pocket and extracted a small blue velvet box. He opened the lid and took a ring in his fingers. The band was smooth gold that delicately swirled in carved vines around a brilliant two-carat diamond. He looked at her apprehensively. “I hope I’m doing it right this time.”
Chris nodded her head, yes. Words wouldn’t slip past the lump in her throat.
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes!” Chris was surprised at the speed and enthusiasm of her answer. She had intended to think about it. Maybe even discuss it with Lucy. She sat up and blinked. How had that yes popped out?
He slid the ring on her finger and kissed her with more relief than passion.
The driver of the carriage tipped his hat.
“Congratulations,” he called over his shoulder. He slowed the horses and handed Ken a silver bucket with a bottle of champagne nestled in shaved ice. Ken expertly popped the cork, sending it flying into the night. The driver produced two fine crystal champagne glasses and resumed his clip-clop pace around the suburban streets.
Chris sipped at her champagne. “I love my ring. It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen—but it’s so big. And the carriage…” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “I love the carriage, too.”
Ken refilled her glass. “But?”
“But this is all so expensive. I hate to be an ungrateful nag, but honestly, you didn’t have to spend all this money. I love you as a carpenter. I love you even more as an unemployed carpenter.”
&n
bsp; “Why do you love me even more as an ‘unemployed’ carpenter?”
“I suppose after Steven and his obsessive need for success, I find an unemployed carpenter to be less threatening. In all honesty, I was only partially joking about wanting a man that lacked ambition.”
“I don’t lack ambition…”
Chris looked into his blue eyes. “I think I worded that badly. I was dumped by a man who placed his career above everything. I just don’t want that to happen again. This time around, I want a man with a little less ambition and a little more love of life and family—and that’s you!”
Ken studiously watched the liquid in his glass fizz in the golden light of the flickering lamps. “There are some things I have to tell you.”
Chris giggled. “You’d better tell me fast because I’m not used to drinking champagne…and I’m feeling strangely tingly and silly.”
Ken looked at her in amazement. “You’re sloshed.” He laughed, wrapping his arm protectively around her. “I think we’d better talk some other time.”
Chapter 9
“Holy cow! You look awful,” Bitsy exclaimed.
Chris blinked in the bright light of the skating rink. “I feel awful. I have a hangover. I haven’t had a hangover since I was nineteen and nobody told me the fruit punch was spiked at Tina Burger’s baby shower.” She put her fingertips to her temples. “My eyes feel like fried eggs. And my head is going wumpa wumpa wumpa. And my tongue…yuk.”
“What was the occasion?”
Chris displayed her ring and managed a painful smile.
“Oh dear.”
“What’s that mean? I expected more like wow and whoopee.”
“Remember how I said I knew Ken?”
“Yeah.”
“And remember we were fooling around, and you said he should be modeling mascara?”
“Yeah?”
“It got me thinking. I could just see those magnetic eyes looking out at me from a magazine.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It took me half of Thanksgiving, but I found him. I went through four dozen old magazines, but I finally found the picture.” Bitsy skated to the sound booth and returned holding a copy of Newsweek. “What really threw me was the beard.”