Cupid's Christmas (Serendipity #3)(14)

“Of course I do,” John answered.

“Yeah, me too.” She looked at him and smiled, “It’s nice that you’ve kept everything just the way Mom had it. That shows how much you love her.”

“Well actually, the sofa is new,” John said. “…and the porch furniture and the dining room light fixture…” He was trying to swing the conversation around so he could mention that Eleanor had picked out those things, but he didn’t get the chance.

“It’s a good thing Mom married someone with principles. I hope one day I’ll meet a man just like you, someone who will love me, the way you love Mom.”

A finger of apprehension poked at John’s stomach. Lindsay’s words were present tense, not past. Words, John thought, it’s only words. He hesitated several minutes and carefully phrased his answer. “I did love your mother,” he said cautiously applying past tense, “and I always will. She has a very special place in my heart. Losing her was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure.” He paused long enough to let the thought register, then said, “But life moves ahead whether we want it to or not…”

“I know,” Lindsay sighed.

John was on the verge of mentioning Eleanor, when Lindsay spoke again.

“It’s just that Mom was so special,” she said wistfully, “no one could ever replace her.”

John decided this was not the right time to mention Eleanor, so he changed the subject. “How about having dinner at McGuffey’s tonight?”

Lindsay nodded, “Okay.” She thought back to the time when McGuffey’s was called Pub n’ Grub. They had a salad bar and the waiters were college kids, who wore jeans and green logo tee shirts. She hadn’t been back for years—five, maybe more. “Yeah,” she said, “McGuffey’s would be great.” Lindsay was already picturing how it much fun it would be to see the friends she’d been thinking of.



It was a few minutes after seven when they settled into the booth at McGuffey’s. It was a slow night so there were only a handful of diners and a few stragglers at the bar. “Wow, this place sure has changed,” Lindsay mumbled. She pictured the room the way it once was and found it disconcerting to see formal waiters and white tablecloths. As soon as the gray-bearded waiter left with their orders, she said, “I just hate it when things change.”

Her father looked at her quizzically, “What changed?”

“Everything. This place used to be so much fun. It was noisy and crowded…”

“Noisy and crowded is good?”

“Sometimes,” she sighed, “The Pub n’ Grub was always so great. It was lively and fun, I mean just look at the place now. It’s dead. The only person in the room I know is you.”

“McGuffey bought the place eight, maybe nine years ago, and he’s improved most everything. The food’s better—”

“But there’s no atmosphere!”

“Sure there is. It’s just not what you expected.” John smiled. “Things change Lindsay and that’s not necessarily bad—”

“I disagree,” she argued. “The changes I’ve seen have all been bad. Think about it—the apartment building, my job, Phillip…”

John looked at the sadness stretched across his daughter’s face. “I know that lately it’s been tough,” he said sympathetically. “But give life a chance. Sometimes when you think you’re as miserable as you can possibly be, somebody special shows up and changes everything.”

Assuming that he was speaking of her mother, Lindsay asked, “Did you know right away Mom was somebody special?”

John took a deep breath. He knew there would be no opportunity to tell her tonight. “Yes,” he finally answered. “The first time I heard your mom laugh, I knew I was in love with her. She knew it too.”

Lindsay thought she saw the twinkle of memories dancing in his eyes. “That’s exactly what I’m hoping will happen to me,” she said.

He smiled, “Patience, honey, patience. Love isn’t something you go looking for. When the right man comes along he’ll find you.”

Unfortunately, what Lindsay imagined to be a twinkle was really the start of a tear—John was thinking of how he could explain this to Eleanor.





I don’t often say this, but there are times when a human gets things right, and Eleanor was absolutely on the mark when she told John that he should have broken this news to Lindsay earlier. If I look no further than tomorrow, I can see the trouble ahead.





That night Lindsay settled into her old room and it was if she’d never left. As she hung the remainder of her clothes in the closet and tucked her underwear into the dresser drawers, she hummed a tune she’d heard on the radio weeks earlier. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, then climbed into bed and snuggled under the comforter. That’s when the buzzing in her ear returned. For several minutes she remained perfectly still, barely breathing, every ounce of concentration was focused on listening to the sound. Words. Words from somewhere far away. Words chopped up into little bitty pieces …um…um…

She bolted upright. “I’m waiting!” Suddenly the buzzing stopped. “Who’s waiting?” she said to no one. While her question still hung in the air, Lindsay heard the high-pitched bark of a dog.