Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [52]
“I don’t know what to do today,” she said, feeling at a loss. “This year is completely unlike any I’ve ever experienced.”
“What would you like to do?”
They’d spent their days sightseeing, and while Emily had thoroughly enjoyed this tour of American history, she wanted to concentrate on the season now.
“I’d like to bake cinnamon rolls,” she said, coming to the decision quickly. “I do every year, specially for breakfast on Christmas morning. I think that would put me in the holiday spirit more than anything.”
“Sounds fantastic. While you’re doing that, I’ll shop for our Christmas dinner. What shall we have?”
Emily shrugged. “A turkey might be a bit much for just the two of us.”
“Didn’t you say something about lobster earlier?” Ray asked.
She nodded, smiling. “Lobster would be perfect.”
Emily must’ve realized she’d want to bake bread, because she’d tossed in a packet of yeast when she’d bought the supplies for her cookie-baking venture. She began to systematically search the kitchen cupboards for bowls and pans.
When Ray finished reading the paper, he put on his overcoat. On his way out the door, he came into the kitchen, where Emily was busy assembling ingredients. The recipe was a longtime family favorite, one she knew by heart. Ray took her by the shoulders and turned her so she couldn’t avoid looking at him.
“I know this Christmas isn’t anything like you anticipated, and I’m sorry about that. But it’s the best Christmas I’ve had since I was a kid—the year my dad got me the red racing bike I so desperately wanted.”
“Oh, Ray,” she whispered, “that’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a long, long time.” Unable to resist, she slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him. She hadn’t been this intimate with a man in years, nor had she felt such longing. He didn’t kiss her and, although she was disappointed, she applauded his restraint. There’d be time later to enjoy the sweetness of each other’s company.
Whistling, Ray left the condo, and as soon as she’d mixed the dough, Emily set it in a slightly warmed oven to rise. Pulling on her coat, gloves and scarf, she hurried out the door. She wanted to buy Ray a Christmas gift and while she was at it, she needed to stop at the grocery store.
The weather was exactly as it should be: cold and clear, with snow falling lightly. Everyone seemed to be bustling about, intent on last-minute Christmas shopping. There was an infectious spirit of joy and goodwill wherever she went.
Ninety minutes later, when Emily returned to the condo, her arms were laden with packages and groceries. She hummed a Christmas carol as she waited for the elevator. She hoped Ray had returned, too, but when she walked inside, the condo was silent and empty.
As quickly as she could, she unloaded her packages, hung up her coat and hid Ray’s present in the bedroom to be wrapped that afternoon. She turned on the gas fireplace, and gentle flames flickered over the artificial log. She went to the radio next, and an instant later, the condo was filled with the glorious sounds of holiday music.
Ray didn’t come back for another hour; among his purchases was a couple of deli sandwiches. Emily had been so busy, she’d forgotten to eat breakfast and it was now well past lunchtime.
“I think I should probably put these lobsters in water,” he said, setting a large box on the counter. He filled the sink. “Should I add salt?”
“Salt?”
“They live in salt water. They might need it.”
“I don’t think so.” Emily was preoccupied with unwrapping the sandwiches. Not until she turned around did she notice two huge lobsters looking directly at her. “They’re alive!” She felt sorry for them and while Ray carried their sandwiches to the table, she released the rubber bands holding their claws together. Poor things, it seemed a