Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [110]
“I…haven’t decided yet. I suppose I’ll spend a quiet day by myself.” She’d wake up late, indulge in a lazy scented bath, find something sinful for breakfast. Ice cream, maybe. Then she’d paint her toenails and settle down with a good book. The day would be lonely, true, but certainly not wasted.
“It’ll be anything but quiet,” Joe challenged.
“Oh?”
“You’ll be spending it with me and my family.”
“This is the first time Joe has ever brought a girl to join us for Christmas,” Virginia Rockwell said as she set a large tray of freshly baked cinnamon rolls in the center of the huge kitchen table. She wiped her hands clean on the apron that was secured around her thick waist.
Cait felt she should explain. She was a little uncomfortable arriving unannounced with Joe like this. “Joe and I are just friends.”
Mrs. Rockwell shook her head, which set the white curls bobbing. “I saw my son’s eyes when he brought you into the house.” She grinned knowingly. “I remember you from the old neighborhood, with your starched dresses and the pigtails with those bright pink ribbons. You were a pretty girl then and you’re even prettier now.”
“The starched dresses were me, all right,” Cait confirmed. She’d been the only girl for blocks around who always wore dresses to school.
Joe’s mother chuckled again. “I remember the sensation you caused in the neighborhood when you said Joe had kissed you.” She chuckled, her eyes shining. “His father and I got quite a kick out of that. I still remember how furious Joe was when he learned his secret was out.”
“I only told one person,” Cait protested. But Betsy had told plenty of others, and the news had spread with alarming speed. However, Cait figured she’d since paid for her sins tenfold. Joe had made sure of that in the past few weeks.
“It’s so good to see you again, Caitlin. When we’ve got a minute I want you to sit down and tell me all about your mother. We lost contact years ago, but I always thought she was a darling.”
“I think so, too,” Cait agreed, carrying a platter of scrambled eggs to the table. She did miss being with her family, but Joe’s mother made it almost as good as being home. “I know that’s how Mom feels about you, too. She’ll want to thank you for being kind enough to invite me into your home for Christmas.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I know.” She glanced into the other room where Joe was sitting with his brother and sister-in-law. Her heart throbbed at the sight of him with his family. But these newfound feelings for Joe left her at a complete loss. What she’d told Mrs. Rockwell was true. Joe was her friend. The very best friend she’d ever had. She was grateful for everything he’d done for her since they’d chanced upon each other, just weeks ago, really. But their friendship was developing into something much stronger. If only she didn’t feel so…so ardent about Paul. If only she didn’t feel so confused!
Joe laughed at something one of his nephews said and Cait couldn’t help smiling. She loved the sound of his laughter. It was vigorous and robust and lively—just like his personality.
“Joe says you’re working as a stockbroker right here in Seattle.”
“Yes. I’ve been with Webster, Rodale and Missen for over a year now. My degree was in accounting but—”
“Accounting?” Mrs. Rockwell nodded approvingly. “My Joe has his own accountant now. Good thing, too. His books were in a terrible mess. He’s a builder, not a pencil pusher, that boy.”
“Are you telling tales on me, Mom?” Joe asked as he sauntered into the kitchen. He picked up a piece of bacon and bit off the end. “When are we going to open the gifts? The kids are getting restless.”
“The kids, nothing. You’re the one who’s eager to tear into those packages,” his mother admonished. “We’ll open them after breakfast, the way we do every Christmas.”
Joe winked at Cait and disappeared into the living room once more.
Mrs. Rockwell watched her son affectionately. “Last year he shows up on my doorstep bright and early Christmas