My Kind of Christmas

and Paige were serving; every few minutes Denny made a swing through the room with a large tub and bussed and wiped tables. “Maybe not at this time of year,” Brie observed. “He’s awful busy.”
    “He’ll get around to it,” Mel said.
    “Did you talk to Angie about this…this…”
    “Love affair?” Mel asked. She shook her head. “She seems very private about it. Shy. I don’t want to shake her confidence or worry her.”
    “But, Mel!”
    “Are you really surprised?” Mel asked. “Why would you be? I guess because Angie has always been most impressive in the academic arena, not the social. But, Brie, there are a few things I’ve learned about the women in your family—you’re all so smart and so passionate and so loving. Angie was bound to do something like this eventually. Didn’t she have a serious boyfriend last year?”
    “Alex. But he was a wiener. I don’t know why they were together, anyway, and when he disappeared while she was in the hospital, it didn’t seem to bother her too much. I suspect she was glad to be rid of him.”
    “This one is not a wiener,” Mel said. “He’s a Riordan. If anyone can match the passion of the Sheridans, it’s a Riordan.” She fanned her face.
    “But isn’t this one, Patrick, in a bad place right now?”
    “Isn’t Angie?” Mel asked, lifting a brow. “I’m probably too sentimental, but I think people find each other when they’re supposed to. When they need to. And, no, I don’t fantasize that this will all work out sweet and happy—in fact, I think there might be tears and heartache. But does she need this right now? I don’t know. Maybe. Can we stop it? No way. Brie, that ship has sailed. Listen,” she added, leaning close, “if I could be in charge, I’d work it out so that we always gained our greatest wisdom from the easy, fun stuff. That makes more sense to me. But it doesn’t seem to be the case. It’s usually the roughest waters that teach us the most.”
    Brie thought for a moment about her own heartaches, long ago and far away. The professor, the slimeball; her ex-husband who had an affair with her best friend, the unfaithful turd. And then came Mike, who she would never have found but for the series of catastrophes she’d had to survive first.
    “I don’t want her to hurt,” Brie said.
    “Me, either,” Mel agreed.
    “Donna’s going to flip,” Brie added.
    “She better not. That would be the kiss of death. At some point she’s going to have to give up.”
    “Ninety percent of the time Donna and Angie have a great relationship, but hoo boy, that ten percent! Do all mothers and daughters go through this?” Brie asked.
    “Did you?”
    “My mother passed away quite a while ago, but I went through it with Donna in her place!”
    “Listen, I know you sympathize with Angie,” Mel said. “So do I. I just want to ask that you remember Donna’s burden isn’t light. She wants to protect her daughter just like she probably wanted to protect you. And I bet she takes a lot of heat for trying. Strong women can be so underappreciated unless you’re screaming for their help.”
    * * *
    Angie’s plan was to go home to the cabin, light the fire, grab a shower and call Patrick. They hadn’t made plans but she was willing to bet he was flexible. She had no idea what he did during the day while she was busy at the clinic, but she took great comfort in the fact that his plane ticket home wasn’t until the twenty-third.
    When she pulled into the cabin’s clearing, her heart leaped. His Jeep was parked there. He’d decorated the cabin! The eaves were adorned with colored Christmas lights. There was a wreath on the door. A curl of smoke rose from the chimney and there were lights on inside. When she opened the door her senses were tempted by a wonderful aroma. He sat on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table trunk, and smiled at her.
    “Well, my favorite B and E man,” she said.
    “I didn’t have to break in. The door was unlocked. Come here, you delicious little thing.”
    She dove to the couch, right into his arms. “Cooking?”
    “Sort of. A frozen lasagna, bread, a salad from the deli in Fortuna. Hungry?”
    “I am. It was my plan to get a quick shower and then call you....”
    “I can help with that,” he said.
    “It’s a very small shower.”
    “We aren’t going to need a lot of room for what I have in mind.”
    * * *
    I’m getting too old for this, Jack thought. The stress of this whole tree thing