but she wasn’t in the mood.
He took two or three pictures. “Again,” he insisted.
Katie was certainly a willing subject. Smiling and gurgling, she flailed her arms about from the crook of Maryellen’s arm.
“Oh, sure,” Jon said, briefly lowering the camera. “Now you’re happy. Laugh away, young lady.”
Despite her mood, Maryellen grinned. “Did Katie keep you up last night?”
“I don’t think I got more than a few hours’ sleep.” He rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Katie was in a foul mood. Nothing satisfied her. I spent most of the night sitting in the rocking chair with her.”
“I think she might be teething.” Maryellen, too, had spent many nights dozing in an upright position. Needless to say, the next workday always ended up being hectic. In an odd way, it comforted her to know that Jon was experiencing the same troubles she did.
Out of habit, Maryellen raised her hand to flip her hair to one side, but it was too short now to toss off her shoulder.
Jon took picture after picture while she stood there.
“Come inside and I’ll make us a cup of coffee,” he said when he’d finished. She wondered if he’d abandoned his art photography in favor of snapping pictures of Katie. Pictures of their daughter were all she’d seen of his work lately. Of course, he was under contract with the Seattle gallery, and she didn’t know whether he’d submitted anything in the last couple of months. She did know his work continued to sell well and she was pleased for him.
Jon paused when she didn’t immediately follow him into the house for coffee. “Do you have time?” he asked.
Since their bout of kissing, Maryellen had managed to avoid spending time alone with Jon. He hadn’t pressured her or questioned her reasons. “I…can’t stay,” she said.
No argument came. It was almost as if he’d expected her to decline.
“I’ll get Katie’s things for you,” he said.
Unsure what prompted her, Maryellen walked inside with him. “How’s everything going at The Lighthouse?” she asked, making casual conversation. She found the success of Seth and Justine’s restaurant particularly gratifying, knowing Jon was employed as head chef. People raved about his innovative dishes. He was a talented, complex man.
Jon gathered up Katie’s favorite blanket and stuffed it into her diaper bag. He found a toy rattle, which he also stuck in the bag.
“I heard it’s impossible to get a reservation for the weekends.”
He shrugged, then looked up, his dark gaze probing hers. “Do you need one?”
“No, no,” she said, not understanding the change in his mood.
“No Saturday-night date?” he pried.
Maryellen laughed. “Hardly.”
“You didn’t get your hair styled to impress me, now did you?”
“I did it for me, Jon.”
His muscles relaxed as he slipped the strap of the diaper bag over his shoulder and gave her a brief smile. She was sure, for a moment, that he wanted to kiss her. “That’s comforting to hear,” he muttered.
His concern—was it jealousy?—was so endearing, she had to resist touching him. In an effort to hide her attraction, she said, “The girls at the nail shop said how wonderful the food at The Lighthouse is.” Terri had recently dined at the restaurant. Rachel, too.
“Thank them for me,” he said in an offhand manner, as if compliments embarrassed him.
“They asked me if I knew where you got your training. I don’t believe you ever mentioned it.” Terri had, in fact, asked her that, and Maryellen took advantage of her friend’s interest to ask a question she herself had wondered about.
“You’re right, I didn’t.” His response was blunt. Clearly he didn’t welcome any further inquiries.
“But you must have been formally trained to—”
“I wasn’t.” He glanced pointedly at his watch. “I need to get ready for work.”
Maryellen was stunned. Every previous time she’d been to Jon’s place, he’d practically thrown himself in front of her car to detain her. Now it seemed he couldn’t get rid of her fast enough.
Absently Maryellen looped a strand of hair around her ear, forgetting once again that her curls were much shorter now than they’d been a few hours earlier. This reaction of Jon’s was so confusing.
Silently he walked her to the car and handed her the diaper bag. “Do you have your work schedule for next week?” she asked.
“Not yet.” He stood beside her vehicle while she strapped Katie into her carrier in the back seat.
When she straightened, she noticed that his attention appeared to be elsewhere. “All right,” she said, “then I’ll wait to hear from you.”
He nodded.
She hesitated, sorry to end their time on such a negative note, but she was unsure what had gone wrong or why. “Goodbye, and…thank you.”
He stepped back from her car and Maryellen got inside and slid the key into the ignition. As she pulled away, she looked in her rearview mirror. Jon was still standing there.
Thirteen
“Are we going to have a big turkey like Mom always cooked?” Eddie asked Thanksgiving morning.
Zach wasn’t fully awake yet, and already his son was demanding answers to questions he could barely comprehend. “Sure,” he said sleepily as he sat up in bed. He glanced at the clock radio and saw that it was only eight. Sleeping in, apparently, was not an option.
“Don’t you think you should put it in the oven now?” Eddie asked.
The turkey was supposed to be in the oven? This early? Then Zach remembered he’d already solved this issue at the local grocery store. The national chain offered fully cooked Thanksgiving dinners, complete with a thirteen-pound turkey, mashed potatoes, giblet gravy, plus dressing. As a bonus, they threw in a can of cranberry sauce and a pumpkin pie.
“Mom always had the turkey in the oven early in the morning, don’t you remember?” Eddie was almost bouncing on Zach’s bed.
Frankly Zach didn’t remember. What he recalled was the tension during Thanksgiving dinner last year, when he’d been fighting with Rosie. They’d barely managed to get through the day without a major blowup. This year was different. This year it was Zach and the kids and no one else.
According to the terms of the divorce, Zach had been awarded all the major holidays, including Thanksgiving, but Rosie got Christmas Day. He could have Allison and Eddie Christmas Eve, but only until midnight. Heaven forbid if he stayed here one minute past. He remembered Rosie’s anger as he’d disputed those terms and suspected she’d
