“I take it you are referring to Brad’s fiancée.”
“So you know?”
“Yep.” She reached for an empty mug on the counter and poured a cup of coffee.
“I’m sure none of this is easy on you, being around Melanie and the baby.”
“It’s okay. I think I’m making peace with all of it.”
Brenda arched an eyebrow.
“No. Really, I am.” Amanda shrugged and reached for the sugar bowl, scooping out a heap and mixing it into her coffee. “Melanie seems like a nice girl. Besides, I’ll be back in Wilmington way before the baby comes.”
“Baby comes?” Brenda asked. “Oh, you mean—”
Amanda’s mother walked into the kitchen. She was holding her finger to her mouth.
Amanda’s eyes narrowed. Was her mother instructing Brenda to stop talking?
“Amanda, I need you to bake an extra batch of sugar cookies. We’re running low.”
“Sure, Mom.” She put her hands on her hips. Something wasn’t quite right. They were keeping something from her. “But first I’d like to know what you two are hiding.”
Brenda pushed off the stool. “I should go. Lots to do today.”
Amanda raced over and blocked the back door. “No one leaves this room until I get some answers.” She eyed Brenda and then her mother. “Come on, you two,” she pleaded. “It’s Christmas, for God’s sake.”
Her mother was the first to speak. “Now’s not the time. We will have a long talk this afternoon after the deliveries.”
Amanda stayed frozen in position at the door, arms now crossed. She hated secrets, especially ones involving Brad.
“I will tell this whole town what you put in your sugar cookies if you don’t tell me right now,” she threatened. “All it would take is one phone call to the news station. I still have connections.”
“Fine.” Amanda’s mother sighed in defeat. “Honey, we just wanted to protect you.”
“Mom, I love you guys for wanting to spare my feelings, but I don’t need protection. Honestly, I don’t. I’m over Brad. He fell in love with someone—I can’t fault him for that; we were already broken up. Time has passed, he’s moved on. So did I. Nothing you could say about him would upset me.”
Brenda was the first to speak. “The baby they’re about to have is their second.”
Except that.
CHAPTER NINE
“Well, here we are. Our first stop.” Jack parked the truck in front of a tethered singlewide trailer.
Tate peered out the front windshield. They were at the last of several weather beaten trailers that lined the street.
“Our first delivery is to Kristen Bailey. She’s a single mother of two and works in the deli department of our town’s grocery. Nice lady. Every now and then she puts a little extra roast beef into my cart.” He winked and patted his belly.
“Her two girls are good kids. They really deserve a nice Christmas this year. Things have been pretty tough for them.”
Tate jumped out of the truck and shook off the residual pine needles. The ride over was short, and he’d enjoyed their casual conversation about the Yankees and Red Sox. It reminded him of similar moments with his dad. He was also grateful that Alex was off doing separate deliveries. If he could avoid Amanda’s brother for most of the day, it would probably be for the better.
“This shouldn’t take too long,” Jack said. “I average fifteen to twenty minutes per delivery. Keeps us on track for the day. Diane or one of her volunteers will be along shortly to drop off the ornaments and cookies.”
Tate followed him to the rear of the truck and looked back. He noticed a small pair of eyes peering out from a thick brown curtain, watching him intently. He waved, and the eyes disappeared behind the drapes.
Tate and Jack hauled the tree to the front porch. “Watch your footing. These steps look a little worn,” Jack cautioned. They maneuvered their way through the pieces of old furniture cluttering the enclosed porch. “Diane told me that Kristen reupholsters furniture for some extra cash.”
The door to the trailer flew open and a woman who appeared to be few years older than Tate greeted them. She was wearing a brown sweater and faded jeans, and her long brown hair was swept up in a messy bun. She greeted them with a wide smile. Her front tooth was chipped.
“Hi, Jack. Come on in. Please excuse the mess. I’ve been working on a few projects this month.”
Tate helped Jack carry the tree in. The warm trailer smelled of peppermint and stale smoke. “Good morning, ma’am.”
Kristen squinted her eyes. “Hi. Well, you’re certainly not Alex,” she said and reached her hand to her face. She tucked her wild strands behind her ear.
“No, no. I’m Tate.”
“Amanda’s boyfriend,” Jack interjected.
“Amanda! How is she? Is she still living down south?”
“Yes. Wilmington. Still a news anchor,” Jack replied.
“Well, we always knew she was going places. Didn’t we? Much too talented to stay around these parts.”
“You might see her later today. She’s helping her mother with the ornaments. Where would you like your tree?”
“In the living room in front of the window. I’ve cleared an area over there.” Kristen pointed to an empty space in front of the brown curtains.
Unlike the cluttered front porch, the living room was sparse, consisting of one worn tan couch and a matching tan chair. Two little girls were sitting on the carpet in front of a coffee table that was covered with construction paper, glitter, and markers. Their eyes were glued to the tree.
“You guys are just so wonderful. Real angels sent from up above.” She held an unlit cigarette in the air. “It’s been just me and the girls since their d-a-d skipped out last year. Honestly, with the way the economy is and gas prices are going, I didn’t think I’d be able to afford Christmas this year. I can’t thank you enough, Jack.”
“It’s our pleasure,” Jack said and winked. “Besides, it’s really the least I can do for the woman who ensures I get extra pulled pork each visit to the deli.” He patted Kristen’s shoulder.
“Ha, ha. I’m not sure if that puts me on your wife’s nice list or her naughty one.”
Jack laughed as he untied the Douglas Fir. Tate helped him lift it into the tree stand, but the tree’s trunk didn’t easily slide in.
“I have some tools in my truck. I’ll be right back.” Jack left the trailer.
Tate leaned the tree against the living room wall. He felt a short tug on his sweater.
“Would you like to help me and my sister decorate ornaments for our tree?” A young girl around five or six with mousy brown hair in a ponytail peered up at him with big round eyes.
“Chloe, I don’t think Tate has time to make ornaments. He has to help Mr. Turner deliver Christmas trees to other families.” Kristen gently ushered her daughter back to the coffee table. “Sorry,” she mouthed to him.
“I think I have time for one snowflake,” Tate offered. He sat down on the carpet next to Chloe.
She handed him a pair of children’s scissors and a white piece of construction paper. “Here, you can make a snowflake. Danielle is coloring the reindeer.”
“Thank you.” Tate smiled and made various zigzag cuts into the white paper. He remembered doing this himself when he was her age. He and his mother used to make homemade decorations for their tree. How quickly forgotten memories come back, he mused.
He glanced over at Danielle, who quietly filled in lines with a brown crayon. She looked to be one or two years younger than Chloe. “Hi. Do you like to color?” he asked.
Danielle ignored Tate’s question and continued to move her crayon back and forth.
“She doesn’t talk to strangers,” Chloe said. “She’s four, and I’m five.”