Goldie automatically righted their coffee mugs and filled them. “We’ve got a turkey dinner with all the trimmings if you’re interested,” she announced.
Olivia still struggled with her appetite. “What’s the soup of the day?”
Goldie frowned. “You aren’t having just soup.”
“But…”
“Look at you,” the waitress chastised. “You’re as thin as a flagpole. If you don’t want a big meal, then I suggest chicken pot pie.”
“Sounds good to me,” Will said.
Goldie ignored him. She whipped the pencil from behind her ear and yanked out the pad in her apron pocket. From sheer force of habit, or so Olivia suspected, she licked the lead. “Okay, what’s it gonna be? And make up your mind,’ cause the lunch crowd’s coming in a few minutes and we’re gonna be real busy.”
It was all Olivia could do to hide her amusement. “Okay, I’ll take the chicken pot pie.”
“Good choice.” Goldie made a notation on her pad.
“I’m glad you approve.”
“You’re getting pie à la mode, too.”
“Goldie!”
One hand on her hip, Goldie glared at her. “After all these years, you should know better than to argue with me.” She turned to Will. “And that goes for you, too, young man.”
Will raised his hands in acquiescence as Olivia sputtered. “I stand corrected,” she said, grinning despite her efforts to keep a straight face.
Goldie left to place their order and Will grinned, too. “I guess you were told.”
“I guess I was,” she agreed. It was nice to know she’d been missed.
Grace would get a real kick out of hearing about this. Olivia would make a point of telling her when they met at the Christmas Eve service later that evening.
Looking out the window, Olivia studied the hand-painted snowman, surrounded by falling snow. The glass next to Will was adorned with a big-eyed reindeer. A small poinsettia sat on every table, and the sights and sounds of Christmas filled the room as “O, Little Town of Bethlehem” played softly in the background.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to join us for Christmas dinner?” Olivia asked her brother.
He shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but you’re not up for company yet.”
“We’re seeing Justine and her family tonight. It’s just going to be Jack and me for Christmas Day.”
“Exactly. The two of you don’t need a third wheel.”
“It wouldn’t be like that,” Olivia protested. “I hate the idea of you spending Christmas alone.”
Will sat back. “What makes you think I’ll be alone?”
Olivia raised her eyebrows. “You mean you won’t?”
He gave a small noncommittal shrug.
“Will.” She breathed his name slowly. She didn’t want to bring up past history, but in her view, Will wasn’t to be trusted with women. “You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?”
The fact that Will was being secretive didn’t bode well. “Come on,” she urged him. “Tell me.”
He smiled. “It isn’t what you think.”
“She isn’t married, is she?”
“No.”
That, at least, was a relief.
“I’m starting over, Liv. My slate’s clean now and I want to keep it that way.”
Olivia certainly hoped so. “Tell me who it is,” she said again.
Her brother relaxed and folded his hands on the table. “I’ve seen Shirley Bliss a few times.”
Shirley Bliss. She was the artist who’d created the dragon, breathing fire and pain and anger.
“Shirley,” she whispered. “The dragon lady.” Olivia hadn’t even met the woman but sensed they could easily be friends.
“She’s the one,” Will said. “We’re only getting to know each other but I’m impressed with her. She’s someone I’d definitely like to know better.”
“She invited you for Christmas?”
Will shifted his weight and looked out the window.
“Well, not exactly.”
Olivia frowned. “Either she did or she didn’t.”
“Let’s put it like this. She hasn’t invited me yet.”
“Good grief, Will! It’s Christmas Eve. If she was going to invite you, it would’ve been before now.”
“Perhaps.” He grinned boyishly. “Actually, I thought I’d stop by her place around dinnertime tomorrow with a small gift.”
“Will!”
“Hey, you can’t blame a man for trying.”
“Will she be by herself?”
He shook his head. “She has two teenagers, a daughter who’s a talented artist, too, and a son who’s in college. I haven’t met him yet.”
Before Will could say anything else, Goldie arrived at their booth, carrying two chicken pot pies. She set them down and came back with two huge pieces of coconut cream pie. “Make sure you save room for this,” she told them.
“I’d like to remind you I didn’t order any pie,” Olivia said, pretending to disapprove.
“I know,” Goldie returned gruffly. “It’s on the house. Think of me as your very own elf. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you, Goldie the Elf.”
Will reached for his fork and smiled over at Olivia.
“I have the feeling it’s going to be a merry Christmas for us all.”
Olivia had the very same feeling, despite—or maybe even because of—their unexpected visitor.
7
Linc gritted his teeth. It was after two, and the traffic through Tacoma was bumper to bumper. “You’d think it was a holiday or something,” he muttered sarcastically.
Mel’s eyebrows shot up and he turned to look at Ned in the backseat.
“What?” Linc barked.
“It is a holiday,” Ned reminded him.
“Don’t you think I know that? I’m joking!”
“Okay, okay.”
“You’re going to exit up here,” Mel said, pointing to the exit ramp for Highway 16.
Linc sighed in relief. They were getting closer, and once they found Mary Jo he intended to give her a piece of his mind. She had no business taking off like this, not when her baby was due in two weeks. It just wasn’t safe.
His jaw tightened as he realized it wasn’t Mary Jo who annoyed him as much as David Rhodes. If Linc could just have five minutes alone with that jerk…
“I’ll bet he’s married,” Linc said to himself. That would explain a lot. A married man would do anything he could to hide the fact that he had a wife. He’d strung Mary Jo along, fed her a bunch of lies and then left her to deal with the consequences all on her own. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. No, sir. Not while Linc was alive. David Rhodes was going to acknowledge his responsibilities and live up to them.
“Who’s married?” Mel asked, staring at him curiously.
“David Rhodes,” he said. “Who else?”
The exit was fast approaching and, while they still had twenty miles to go, traffic would thin out once he was off the Interstate.
“He’s not,” Ned said blithely from the backseat.
“Isn’t what?” Linc demanded.
“David Rhodes isn’t married.”
Linc glanced over his shoulder. “How do you know?”
“Mary Jo told me.”
Ned and Mary Jo were close, and he was more apt to take a statement like that at face value.
“He probably lied about that along with everything else,” Mel said, voicing Linc’s own thoughts.
“He didn’t,” Ned insisted.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I checked him out on the Internet,” Ned continued with the same certainty. “It’s a matter of public record. David Rhodes lives in California and he’s been married and divorced twice. Both his marriages and divorces are listed with California’s Department of Records.”