1225 Christmas Tree Lane - Debbie Macomber [48]
They took the chairs closest to where they stood. That put Danielle beside their father, and Ted and their mother across from them, leaving the two end chairs for Bailey and Sophie.
“Mom made the lasagna,” Bailey said, although everyone already knew that. Before she could mention Danielle’s role in their dinner, the other woman broke in.
“And I made the salad and the bread, which I’m sure you’ll find delicious.”
Both men smiled, apparently impressed with the woman who’d managed to spread garlic butter on a sliced baguette. From their admiring gazes, one would think Danielle was qualified to open her own restaurant.
Bailey wanted to point out that the lasagna had required a great deal more expertise than buttering bread. She opened her mouth, but before she could utter a word, she caught her mother’s look. Funny how much Mom could communicate in a single glance. Bailey snapped her mouth shut.
Beth served generous slices of lasagna. The salad and bread were passed around the table to sighs of appreciation. Ted poured the wine he’d brought with him. After filling the glasses, he looked around the table. “A toast?”
They all raised their goblets, but before Ted could speak, their father beat him to it. “To a wonderful meal shared with family and friends.”
“Hear, hear,” Ted added. They all touched the rims of their glasses, then tasted the wine.
“This is excellent,” Beth said, praising Ted’s choice.
“Very good,” Kent agreed.
Wine, Bailey mused. That was it. A common link—her parents were both interested in wine. Well, so was Ted, but she was going to ignore that.
“It’s a pinot noir,” Ted was saying, “from Oregon.”
“Ted and I discovered it a couple of weeks ago at a fundraising event,” Beth said. “I generally prefer the rich, deep reds, so this one took me by surprise.”
Oh, yes, life was full of surprises, Bailey thought. Some of them weren’t pleasant, either—her mother and father being a prime example.
Dinner became less awkward as they enjoyed the wine and the meal. Conversation revolved around the holidays. Beth talked about the ski trip to Whistler, and the girls chimed in, excited at the prospect of an entire week on the slopes. In the past it had been a family trip, with their father included.
As soon as everyone had finished, Bailey and Sophie jumped up, eager for an excuse to leave.
Bailey carried two dinner plates into the kitchen and set them in the sink. Sophie followed with two more.
“Why didn’t you do something?” her sister hissed. “Getting Mom and Dad back together was your idea.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to do everything, does it?” she returned in a heated whisper. A few suggestions from her younger sister certainly would’ve helped.
Back in the dining room, Bailey could see that Danielle was texting on her cell phone again, keeping it hidden below the table, although everyone knew what she was doing.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to leave early,” Kent said reluctantly. “Unfortunately, Danielle isn’t feeling well.”
“Can I get you anything?” Beth asked, sounding concerned.
Bailey wanted to suggest a broom, but her little joke was unlikely to be appreciated, so she said nothing.
“I apologize,” Danielle murmured, pressing her fingertips to her temple. “I have a terrible headache that won’t go away.”
A headache? That was the weakest excuse in the book. A regular ol’ headache? Couldn’t she be a bit more imaginative? Perhaps a sprained thumb from all that texting?
“So you won’t be able to come to church services with us?” Sophie asked with such a lack of sincerity it was embarrassing.
“I think I should get Danielle back to the bed-and-breakfast,” their father said.
Mom didn’t waste any time retrieving their coats. Standing at the front door, their dad loitered a moment, as if he wanted to say something else. “It was a lovely day,” he finally said.
“Thank you,” Beth said simply.
“Kent?” Danielle insisted.
“When will I see you again?” Kent asked, directing the question