Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [31]
When Rayburn didn’t answer, she tried his office and learned he was still in Boston.
“Why?” she demanded of his assistant. “Why is he still in Boston?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Brewster,” the young woman said politely. “Mr. Brewster phoned the office this morning and that’s what he said.”
“He has his cell phone?” Of course he did, because he’d called her on it the night before.
“I believe he does.”
Bernice carefully punched out the cell number and waited. The phone rang four times before her son answered. “Ray Brewster.”
“Rayburn,” she gasped, overwhelmed by her children’s odd behavior. His greeting had sounded far too friendly, as if he’d been laughing. Well, this was no laughing matter!
“Mother.” The sound of her voice sobered him up fast enough, she noticed. Something very suspicious was going on. “Where are you?” she demanded.
“I’m forty-three years old. I no longer need to check in with you.”
How dared he speak to her in that tone! She was about to say so when Rayburn chuckled.
“If you must know, I’m in Boston at Charles’s condo.”
“There’s a woman there.”
“I already know that, Mother.”
Bernice gasped. “You spent the night with her?”
“I was in the same condo, not that it’s any of your business.”
Bernice pulled out her lace-edged hankie and clenched it tightly. “I…I have no idea where your father and I went wrong that both my sons—”
“Mother, take a deep breath and start over.”
Bernice tried, she honestly tried, but her heart was pounding and her head spinning. “I phoned the number you gave me and…another woman answered.”
“A woman? Are you sure you had the right number?”
“Of course I’m sure. I asked and she said Charles was unavailable.”
“Hold on, let me ask Emily who it might be.”
Emily, was it? “I see you’re on a first-name basis with this—this house-stealer.”
To her chagrin, Rayburn laughed. “Honestly, Mother, I think you missed your calling. You should’ve been on the stage.”
Her husband used to make the same claim, and while she did have a good stage presence, she suspected Rayburn didn’t mean it as a compliment.
Bernice could hear him in the background, but hard as she pressed her ear against the receiver, she couldn’t make out what was being said.
“Emily says she doesn’t have a clue who would be answering the phone at her place. She’ll call later and find out if you wish.”
“If I wish?” Bernice repeated.
“All right, I’ll get back to you.”
Her son was about to hang up, but she still had more to say. “Rayburn,” she shouted. “You behave yourself with this woman, understand?”
“Yes, Mother.”
The phone line went dead.
“A woman answered?” Emily repeated after Ray ended the conversation with his mother. “Now, that’s interesting.”
“Who do you think it might be?”
Emily shrugged. “Don’t know, but it’ll be easy enough to find out.” She went to the telephone and punched out her own number in Washington State.
The line was picked up almost right away. “Hello.”
“Faith?” Emily shrieked. “Faith? Is it really you?”
“Emily?”
They both started talking at once, blurting out questions and answers, then each explained in turn. Even then, it took Emily a few moments to discern what had actually happened.
“Oh, no! You came to spend Christmas with me and I’m not there.”
“You went to Boston to be with Heather and now she’s in Florida?”
“Yes, but I can’t think about it, otherwise I’ll get too upset.”
Faith was sympathetic. “I felt so badly for the way I brushed off your disappointment.”
“And now you’re trapped in Leavenworth.”
“There are worse places to be this time of year,” Faith said. She seemed to be in a good frame of mind. “Charles and I have reached an agreement,” she went on to say. “I’m staying until after Christmas, and in exchange, I’ll keep out of his way and cook his meals.”
While her friend put a positive slant on the situation,