I was just thinking....”
That was the other problem with Lilly. Pepper, thankfully, said anything that was on her mind. It came out like froth; he never had to work to figure out where her head was. But Lilly was the thinker, the one who stored hurts on the inside, the one who never said anything he could anticipate. Nothing in the universe could make him feel as helpless as Lilly.
And he’d have to kill anyone who dared cause her any grief again.
“Didn’t you think she was pretty?” She asked him as if his answer was of no consequence, while idly scratching the back of one knee with a slipper.
“The lady?”
“Rosemary, Dad. You heard her name. And yeah. Didn’t you think she was pretty?”
“Sure.”
Lilly rolled her eyes. It was a default response when Whit did something inadequate on an eleven-year-old’s terms. “Something’s wrong with her.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. But she’s pretty. And she’s spending Christmas all by herself. And she’s working, she showed us some stuff on orchids. But you’d think it was July or June or something. There’s no tree or presents. No stuff. No lights.”
“Maybe she’s of some other religion.”
“You mean like Buddhist or Muslim or something? No. It’s not that.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know.” Another default answer, usually accompanied by, “I’m a girl and I know. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Maybe she’s Jewish?”
“Dad. We know five Jewish people. And they do Christmas with presents and trees just like we do. Except that they get to do their Hanukkah holiday, too, so they get even more presents. In fact, I was thinking about turning Jewish.”
“Were you?”
“Hey, people fight wars all the time over religion. I think they should stop fighting wars and concentrate more on giving presents. Especially presents for their kids.” Possibly out of boredom, she plucked a raw carrot from the glass of carrots and celery on the counter. It was the first time he’d seen her eat anything nutritious since they’d come up here. “But back to Rosemary. The thing is...she’s our neighbor. In fact, as far as I can tell, she’s our only neighbor up here. At least the only one we know about. So maybe we should do some Christmas stuff with her, so she’s not alone.”
“Honey, she may be alone by choice. She may not want company or neighbors around.”
“Well, then, why were her eyes sad?”
The water started to swirl and bubble. He dumped in the dry pasta, asked Lilly to get some milk and butter from the fridge and called Pepper to set the table. Then he did what he always did when he needed a diversion. He called dibs on the TV as of eight o’clock.
That immediately raised the decibel level in the great room to rock concert levels...and for sure, diverted Lilly.
But Rosemary’s face flashed back in his mind. She did have sad eyes. At first...well, at very first, he’d only seen his girls, because he’d nearly had a heart attack about their bear encounter. No matter what they’d claimed on the phone, he had to see them both in flesh and blood to breathe again.
Still, the minute he realized the kids were both fine, he swiftly turned on Rosemary. First, he noticed her vibrancy. With three females in the same room, naturally all three of them were talking at once, with volume, and were all in constant motion besides. But over and above his twins’ chatter, he caught...the energy of her. The life-lover zest.
Her build was lithe and lean, a woman comfortable with her body, used to doing physical things and spending time outdoors. Even in December her nose had a hint of sunburn, with a thin spray of freckles.
Her eyes were faded blue, the color of a hot sky in summer. She wore her hair grass-short and styled wash-and-wear, not all that much different than his, but no one would ever mistake her for a guy. Everything about her was soft and female. The long sleeved T-shirt in navy blue, the battered-soft jeans, the sculpted fine bones in her face. None of her clothes were fancy but distinctly feel-good styles, easy to move in, easy to live in. She wore no makeup—of course, since she lived alone, why would she paint her face? But it was more than that. Her skin had that wind-fresh, sun-friendly wholesome look. Her breasts were small and pert; her hips barely held up her jeans. There was no vanity in her. No embellishments. Just...beauty.
The real kind of beauty.
The kind that rang his chimes. Only no one—real or not—had rung his chimes since Zoe died.
Sooner or later, he figured he’d get his libido back. He’d always been overcharged, not under, but Zoe’s death seemed to kill something off in him.
He’d never identified it that way. Never thought of it at all.
Yet one look at Rosemary, and his libido showed up and started singing bass. With drums.
And yeah, the sadness in her eyes touched him—maybe should have warned him. But that sadness wasn’t her. It was about something that had happened to her. And...
“Dad! You’re burning the mac and cheese again!”
He glanced down at the pot. How had that happened again?
By the time they sat down at the table, Whit realized that something was up. A father of twins learned some things the hard way. Two children were just two children—but twins were a pack. Like wolves. Or badgers.
Especially like badgers.
“Listen, Dad.” Pepper shoveled in the mac and cheese, but took time to offer him a beguiling smile. She was always the troublemaker.
“I’m listening.”
“We’re really happy up here. It’s awesome and all. And we know you want us to forget Mom this Christmas.”
He frowned. “No. No, you two, not at all. I just thought this Christmas would be extra hard without your mom. By next year, we could do the holiday completely differently. Make a point of remembering your mom, in fact—like making some of her favorite holiday dishes. Remember her strawberry pie? Or putting the tree in the corner where she thought it looked best. I don’t ever want you to forget your mom, I just—”
“Dad, wind it up.” Pepper again, using her impatient tone. “We’re okay with all that. You don’t have to go on and on.”
“But here’s the thing.” Lilly, always the pacifier, jumped in when she thought her sis was being abrasive. “We don’t know Rosemary very well. But she’s alone. And we’re alone this Christmas, too. Like you said before, maybe we’d be an intrusion. But maybe not. I mean, what if we just—like when we’re cutting down our own tree tomorrow—cut one down for her, too?”
Pepper started her fidgety thing, dropping a napkin, then her fork. “And then we could just bring her the tree—and see if we’re in her way
