The Perfect Christmas - Debbie Macomber [23]
“He’s an engineer,” she murmured.
“Simon?”
“No, my match. Simon offered me a crumb of information yesterday.”
“An engineer,” Shawn echoed. “I guess your kids will be left-brained.”
“That’s what Simon said,” she returned excitedly.
Shawn looked surprised. “You told him about your IQ?”
“No, but it was on the questionnaire.” In high school, her high IQ had been an embarrassment rather than an asset. She always used to insist that scoring well on a test didn’t make her any different from everyone else. She still felt that way—although it did get her through two chemistry degrees in four years instead of six.
“Mom was always proud of your intelligence,” Shawn reminded her.
“It didn’t matter to our father, though, did it?” As a child, Cassie had thought it was her fault their father had left the family. Although it made no sense for a seven-year-old to assume that kind of blame, she had. Later, she’d learned this was fairly typical in situations like this. They’d all been devastated, but she’d unconsciously taken on the role of scapegoat.
“Speaking of Dad…”
Cassie already knew what was coming. “He called you?” Shawn nodded.
“His yearly sojourn into fatherhood! Lucky you. This year it was your turn to receive the great gift of his phone call. What did he have to say?”
“He saw one of my murals and wanted to tell me he was impressed.”
Cassie shrugged. “That was nice.”
“A surprise, actually.”
Cassie knew how long Shawn had waited for any praise from their father. They rarely discussed him; the subject was still too painful for them both.
“Where was he?” The last she’d heard, he was living aboard his sailboat somewhere in the Caribbean.
“Hawaii.”
Cassie chuckled. “Really? Wouldn’t it be amusing if he ran into Mom on the streets of Honolulu?”
Shawn shook his head. “She’s over him. She forgave him a long time ago.”
“Mom’s a better woman than I am.” Talking about their father depressed her. “Can’t we discuss something else? Something more cheerful—like bank fore-closures?”
Shawn snorted. “Very funny.”
“I don’t know why he bothers,” she said.
“I thought we weren’t going to discuss Dad.”
“Right. Sorry.”
Shawn drank the last of his coffee and stood. “I’ve gotta go.”
“You mean you aren’t going to stay and help me trim the tree?”
“Can’t. I’ve got an…appointment.”
From the gleam in his eyes, this so-called appointment involved a woman. “You’ve got a date.”
“I’m not telling.”
It really wasn’t fair. Cassie had to pay tens of thousands of dollars to meet men, and her brother had women falling all over him. It must be those piercing blue eyes of his—plus, of course, the fact that he was talented, rich and eligible.
Cassie walked him to the door.
“Are you coming back here tonight?” she asked.
“Nope. I’m taking the red-eye to Phoenix.”
“Will I see you at Christmas?”
“Sure. Where else would I go?”
“Call me, okay?”
“Will do. Besides, I want to hear all about Simon.”
“John,” she corrected. “Simon’s the matchmaker.”
“Right.” That gleam was back in his eyes and Cassie suspected the slip had been intentional.
An hour later, Cassie had the Christmas tree in its stand and set by the window that overlooked the city. The big star above Macy’s glowed in the dim light of late afternoon. She dragged her ornaments out from the guest room closet and decided to give Angie a call. Trimming a tree all alone wasn’t any fun.
Her friend answered immediately. “Come on over,” Cassie invited her. “Shawn stopped by to drop off a Christmas tree and then abandoned me to decorate it by myself. I’ve got hot apple cider and popcorn popping in the microwave.”
“Oh, Cassie, I’d love to but I can’t.”
“Are you off shopping again?”
“No, I’m meeting an old friend. Sort of a last-minute thing. You could join us if you want.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Um, not really.”
“Oh, well, I’ve got an appointment with