Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [60]
“She’ll be here any minute,” Ray told her.
“Do you think so?” Emily’s voice swelled with anticipation and renewed hope.
Ray exhaled loudly. “Actually, I was referring to my mother.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders deflated.
“Heather will make her own decision,” Ray said, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“I know.” Emily had already realized that, but it was hard not to call her and smooth things out, despite Heather’s rude behavior. To be estranged from her only child on Christmas Day was almost more than Emily could bear. If she hadn’t heard from her by early evening, she knew she’d break down and call.
“Rayburn!” His mother stepped out of the elevator, minus FiFi the Pomeranian. She held out her arms to her son as she slowly glided across the lobby. Several heads turned in their direction.
“Mother likes to make an entrance,” Ray said under his breath.
“So I noticed.”
Bernice Brewster hugged Ray as if it’d been years since their last meeting, and then shifted her attention to Emily. Clasping both of Emily’s hands, the older woman smiled benevolently.
“I am so pleased that my son has finally found someone so special.”
“Mother, stop it,” Ray hissed under his breath.
Emily quite enjoyed his discomfort. “Ray’s the special one, Mrs. Brewster.”
“I do agree, but it takes the right woman to recognize what a prize he is.”
“What time is the dinner reservation?” Ray asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject.
“Three-thirty,” his mother informed him. “I do hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m famished,” Emily said, although it wasn’t true. Worried as she was about Heather, she didn’t know if she could eat a single bite. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind, but I invited my daughter to join us…. She didn’t know if she could make it or not.”
Ray gripped her hand at the telltale wobble in her voice.
“Is anything wrong, my dear?” Mrs. Brewster asked.
“I—Heather and I had a bit of a disagreement.”
“Children inflict those on their parents every now and then.” Ray’s mother looked pointedly in his direction. “Isn’t that right, Rayburn?”
Ray cleared his throat and agreed. “It’s been known to happen. Every now and then, as you say.”
“Don’t you worry,” the older woman said, gently patting Emily’s forearm. “We’ll ask the maître d’ to seat us at a table for four and trust your daughter has the good sense to make an appearance.”
“I hope she does, too.”
Ray spoke to the maître d’ and they were led to a table with four place settings. Emily was surprised by the number of people who ate dinner in a restaurant on Christmas Day. Aujourd’hui was full, with a long waiting list, if the people assembled near the front were any indication.
The maître d’ seated Mrs. Brewster, and Ray pulled out Emily’s chair. She was half seated when she saw Heather. Her daughter rushed into the restaurant foyer, glancing around the tables until she caught sight of Emily. A smile brightened her pretty face, and she came into the room, dragging a young man. It took Emily only a moment to recognize Ben.
Emily stood to meet her daughter.
“Mom!” Heather threw her arms around Emily’s neck. “I’m so glad I found you.”
Emily struggled with emotion. “I am, too.” She could hardly speak since her throat was clogged with tears.
“Hi,” Heather said, turning to Ray. She extended her hand. “We sort of met last night. I’m Heather.”
Ray stood, and they exchanged handshakes. “Ray.” He motioned to his mother. “This is my mother, Bernice Brewster.”
“And this is Ben Miller,” Heather said, slipping her arm around the young man’s waist. She pressed her head against his shoulder, as if they were a longtime couple. Emily was curious about what had happened to Elijah No-Last-Name, but figured she’d learn the details later.
“Please,” Mrs. Brewster said, gesturing to the table. “I would like both of you to join us.”
Immediately an extra chair and place setting were delivered to the table, and not a minute later everyone was seated.
“This place is really something,