Gloom settled again. More than likely he had to be there. When he had moved to Pinetree, Slade had undoubtedly expected to be isolated, to produce quantities of work. A mountain cabin had probably seemed an ideal location. Then Kris had appeared and blown not just holes, but craters, in his schedule.
I won't desert you.
Carroll concentrated fiercely on her train of thought. Slade. Work. Schedule. Kris. Slade wasn't given to sulking or complaining. He also didn't talk much about his work. She realized with a mild sense of surprise that she hadn't the foggiest idea what he was doing over there. Oh, he answered direct questions and murmured something about radar; she had even seen the colorful graphics on his monitor, but they meant less than nothing to her. She would ask him after the holidays, she decided, sipping her tea.
So Slade would neither complain nor sulk. What would he do? Exactly what he was doing. Work every minute that he could. He would make his deadline come hell or high water. Whatever it took, he would do. And in his spare time-such as it was-he would fret about the problem that Kris had created.
I won't desert you.
She tossed aside the afghan and jumped to her feet, admitting that she had stalled as long as she could. All right! He wouldn't desert her. So he said. And he undoubtedly meant it. For now. But so had Jeffrey.
Jeffrey.
Okay, admit it, Carroll. At least to yourself. Say it just once. Jeffrey had been no more mature at twenty-two than she had been at nineteen. He'd had no more grasp of the depth of the vows he had taken than she had. They had thought they were in love. And they had been-with love, not each other.
Reality had been living in a tiny apartment that they couldn't afford, having no marketable job skills and learning that she was pregnant the third month of their marriage. Even so, reality had barely dented her optimistic outlook. "Things will work out," she had said. Repeatedly. But reality had presented a different face to Jeff, one that he found frightening. He didn't wait for things to work out. He left when she was seven months into her pregnancy; he had never seen his baby. He had never called or written to ask about her. Carroll divorced him and gave Christy her maiden name, and now there was no remnant of Jeff in her life-except for memories.
But Jeff wasn't the villain of the piece, Carroll reflected. There was no villain. He had been weak, and they had both been very young. But still, something good had come from the situation: Christy.
Carroll stared out the window at the lights slashing into the darkness around Slade's house, remembering. Something else had happened. She had grown up. She had managed to return to school and get a good grounding in secretarial work and business administration. It hadn't been easy, but with the help of Kris and Noel it had been possible. Running her own business had been her goal, and had become her achievement for the past four years.
Her life was predictable, secure, just the way she wanted it to be. She was independent and in control, also just the way she wanted to be. And she was happy. Carroll took one last lingering look out the window and turned away. She was happy.
Upstairs, she crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to her ears, trying to ignore the haunting refrain that had made it impossible to sleep.
I won't desert you.
Late the next afternoon, Carroll decided to brave the evening traffic so she could drive Christy into town. They wanted to be in the park when Kris turned on the first bank of lights. It was a long-standing tradition on their part, one that not even a cast and crutches could prevent.
"Will we eat at Barney's?" Christy asked.
"Don't we always?"
"Can I get a hamburger and a malt?"
"Don't you always?"
"Then we'll walk over to the park?"
Carroll nodded. "Yep."
"Then we'll walk all through the park and look at all the scenes?"
"Um-hmm."
"The lights only stayed on a couple of seconds last year," Christy pointed out. "There wasn't much to see."
"True. We're hoping that won't happen this year."
"Then we'll go visit all the stores?"
"Every one of them. Do you have your shopping list and your money?"
Christy patted the front pocket of her jeans. "Right here."
"Good. Now all we have to do is figure out how to keep your toes warm."
"I think I've got that covered." Slade leaned against the doorjamb holding two large socks.
"Slade!" Christy turned around and beamed at him, doing a little jig, one crutch just grazing her mother's toes. "Everything's just like I told you. We're going to eat at Barney's, then go to the park, then go shopping. Aren't you glad you decided to come?"
"Very, squirt." He motioned for her to sit on the large upholstered chair and went down on one knee. Working a thermal sock over her toes and the surrounding cast, he said, "But it's your mother's party, and maybe she'd rather just go with you."
"Oh, no, she wouldn't! Would you, Mom?"
Looking from imploring blue eyes to provoking gray ones, Carroll gave up. She knew a lost cause when she saw one. "The more the merrier," she said dryly.
"Thank you." He nodded in her direction. "Dinner's on me tonight."
Christy bounced in the chair. "Great! Can I have a hot fudge sundae?"
He pulled the sock up as far as it would go, then began working a wool one over it. "You may have whatever your mother allows you to have," he told her.
"I was thinking of ordering you a vegetarian plate," Carroll warned, pulling coats, scarves, hats and gloves from the closet. "All green veggies."
Christy grinned. "They don't really have stuff like that at Barney's," she assured Slade.
They used the station wagon, so Christy would have room to stretch out her leg. For once Carroll was grateful for her daughter's nonstop chatter. She identified every house for Slade, telling him the names of the owners and all their children, describing pets when they existed.
It would have been an awkward ride without her, Carroll admitted, because Slade's words still hung heavily between them. At least, as far as she was concerned, they did. She didn't know what to say to him. Obviously something needed to be said, but just as obviously, now was not the time. Not with Christy along.
"We're in luck," Christy said to Slade as her mother pulled into a small lot by the park. "The tourists only get out of their cars to visit the stores. Then they get back in and drive around to look at the lights. They don't know that the best place to be is in the park."
"That's right," Carroll agreed. "And we don't tell them. Come on, we'd better get a move on if we're going to eat before Kris turns on the lights."
Eating at Barney's was a bit like inviting all the neighbors in for dinner, Slade decided. Almost everyone in the place was a local, and almost all of them had something to say about the Christmas display.
Lindy from the boutique stopped at their booth with a tall, slim graying man who pumped Slade's hand. "Hi, I'm Tom Miller. Lindy tells me you're the man who's helping Kris with the lights. Can't tell you how long we've been waiting for this. We all thought they were going to come on last year, and they did- for about five seconds." He shook his head. "Then we had a power failure to end them all, and we lost most of our regular lights for about an hour. Sure hope you two have it figured out this time. Did Lindy tell you about the TV coverage?"
Slade nodded. "I wish I could say that things are going to be-"
"Mr. Ryan?" An elderly woman with blue tinted hair eased in beside the Millers and gently nudged them on their way. "I'm Matilda Gateway, president of the Woman's League, and I want to express my appreciation for your efforts on our behalf. No, don't try to get up, please. It's impossible in a booth. We are all most grateful to you. Kris says your help has been invaluable. We've waited for this Christmas Eve celebration for years, and now, finally, we will have it. Imagine, it's just two weeks away!"