That was only the beginning. Slade's food grew cold as one person after another stopped by the booth with assurances that they were looking forward to the festivities on Christmas Eve.
Carroll touched his hand, wincing as it clenched into a fist. "Slade, I'm so sorry," she whispered miserably while Christy was waving to a friend. "I had no idea it would be like this."
His eyes narrowed. "Kris hasn't told a soul that there's a problem with the rest of the lights, has he? Are you finished?" he asked abruptly, looking at his watch. "We should probably start walking. At least we know these lights are coming on."
Anticipation was in the air. People streamed into the park, calling greetings and stamping their feet to keep warm. Most of them were hopeful, but as one man pointed out, they had felt the same way the past year and the ones before that. As the hour approached, silence fell.
There was a collective gasp as the lights went on, spontaneous applause as the animated scenes began to bob, teeter and whirl. It was spectacular, Slade admitted. He was impressed. So was the crowd.
There was no doubt about it; Kris had done an impressive job. Everyone in the park said so. They told Slade and Carroll and Kris himself, when he strolled grandly down the avenue. Kris beamed and promised a grand finale on Christmas Eve.
Slade stared at him impassively and muttered to Carroll, "I can't take any more of this. Let's get out of here." They wound their way through the park, Christy tucked protectively between them, heading for the stores.
"Mom, look over there!" Christy pointed. "There's Mac and Red and all the other guys. I bet they came up just to see the lights tonight. Hey, Mac!" She waved and picked up speed.
The marines, eleven of them, turned at her call, then swept forward, surrounding them. Mac grinned down at Christy. "After all our work, we had to come and see what it looked like."
"Are you coming up for Christmas Eve?" Carroll asked.
He nodded. "None of us have enough time to get home, so we'll all be here."
"We'll look forward to seeing you," Carroll told him as they all turned in the direction of the shops. "Remember, you're invited for dinner."
As they strolled down the illuminated walk, Mac dropped behind with Slade. In a troubled voice, he said, "I don't see how the old man can add another fifty per cent to all this." He gestured at the brilliant display.
"He can't."
The two men exchanged glances.
"He's really setting himself up for a fall."
"A big one," Slade agreed. "And to make matters worse, they're talking about getting TV coverage for the big event."
Mac stared at him. "You're kidding."
"I wish I was."
"Can't you stop it?"
Slade shrugged. "Not me. I'm new around here. This thing is like a snowball rolling downhill, getting bigger and faster with every turn. Kris wants more lights." He gestured to the people around them. "They want more lights. The whole town wants more lights. So in two weeks they're going to have TV cameras on hand to record the biggest fizzle in history."
"So what are you going to do?"
Slade swore. "What am I going to do? Nothing. Kris asked me for advice, and I gave it. I told him it was impossible."
"Then what happened?" Mac finally asked.
"He didn't believe me. He said we'd just have to find a way to make it work. I would have to find a way to make it work."
"Oh, jeez."
"Exactly."
Carroll looked at the sleeping girl in Slade's arms. "Thanks for carrying her up. I never would have made it."
"My pleasure." And it was. His arms tightened reflexively around Christy before he bent down and placed her on the bed. "Want me to make some coffee while you tuck her in?"
Downstairs, as he measured the coffee, he thought of Carroll's wary glance and resigned nod. She looked about as thrilled as someone leaning against a stone wall, waiting for the firing squad to appear. Watching the thin stream of coffee trickle into the glass pot, Slade wondered how it would feel to have her face light up when he walked into a room, to share with the rest of her family the soft look of joy that deepened the blue of her eyes.
He leaned against the counter and forced himself to relax. He would know. Sooner or later, he would know.
Chapter Eight
"Why so grim?" Carroll stood in the doorway, an inquiring expression on her face. "Something happen to the coffeepot?"
He moved aside and gestured. "It's fine. I was just thinking."
"About Kris and the lights? I'm sorry he got you involved in all this." She took two mugs out of the cupboard, and reached for the powdered cream.
"Forget the lights. Forget Kris."
Carroll's hands stilled, and he could see tension in the set of her slim shoulders. "Then what-"
"Us. You and me. Slade and Carroll."
Apprehension and relief mingled somewhere deep within her. Finally. No more waiting for the other shoe to fall. No more pretending. Now they could talk it out and put it behind them.
She chose her words carefully, the ones she had rehearsed in the dark of the night. She kept her voice firm. Friendly. Kind. "Us? You make it sound as if we're a couple. We're not. There's a Slade Ryan who lives over there-" she pointed in the direction of his house "-and a Carroll Stilwell who lives here with her family. Two separate people, Slade. Neighbors, but that's all. Please don't read any more into it than there is."
"That's all?" He flashed a smile that was a distinct challenge. "Friends? Maybe not even that, if what you say is true. Acquaintances?"
She sighed, eyeing his smile warily. It made her think of a cat about to pounce. She didn't trust him. Not at all. She might have known he wouldn't make this easy. "Friends," she murmured. "Definitely friends."
He shook his head. "No."
"No?" Her breath caught somewhere deep in her lungs.
"Uh-uh." He lounged against the counter and extended his hand. "Come here and I'll prove it."
Carroll watched the strong hand as if it were a snake. She might have known he would have something up his sleeve! In his own quiet way, Slade was just as devious as Kris. "No. I don't need proof." She snatched up the mugs, filled them and handed him one.
Calmly, he put it on the counter and held out his hand again. "All you have to do is take my hand."
"That's all?"
He grinned at her skeptical tone. "No."
"Then what?" It was like pulling teeth to get anything out of him.
"Kiss me. And then tell me we're only neighbors."
Carroll tried to add cream to her coffee and realized that her hand was shaking. Kiss him? She might as well rent a billboard advertising the fact that he was driving her crazy. She shook her head and cleared her throat. "I don't see what that would prove."
"I think you do. I think that's why you're so nervous."
"I'm not nervous!" she said stoically, then dropped the spoon and sprayed coffee all over the sink. Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a calming breath. "No." Her voice was definite. "I don't believe in playing games to solve problems."
He kept his hand where it was, waiting for hers. "It's no game, honey. This is real life. If you can kiss me and tell me it means nothing to you, I'll go away and leave you alone."
He wasn't going to move, she realized, knowing it with sudden certainty. He would stay right there, in his own stubborn way, holding out his hand until she proved that he was wrong. Once she did, he would go. Ignoring the feeling of loss that washed over her, she told herself briskly that it would be for the best.
And what would it take? Three seconds? Five? Ten or fifteen, at the most. Fifteen seconds compared to hours of silent pressure? To a life turned upside down? As far as she was concerned, there was no contest. She could do anything for fifteen seconds-hold her breath, stand on her head, anything. Even kiss Slade and convince him that she didn't feel a thing.