A Chance This Christmas(30)

“Hello? Rachel?” her mother called to her from the far end of the house as Rachel reached the landing. “Honey, is that you?”

Rachel froze for a moment. Because even though she was a grown adult, sneaking into the house late still felt vaguely forbidden. Shaking off the return to adolescence, she called, “Yes, Mom. I didn’t know you’d still be awake.”

Putting aside unsettling thoughts about Gavin, Rachel hung her cape on a peg near the stairs and then headed toward the living room. Her mother sat in front of a lively blaze in the fireplace, her pink sock feet on the coffee table while she worked on a piece of embroidery, her reading glasses low on her nose.

For an instant, Molly Chambers looked just like Rachel’s grandmother—a thought she didn’t share since she wasn’t sure how her mother would receive the news. Molly had had a distant relationship with her mother, which was one of the reasons she’d bought into her husband’s ideas for Yuletide. For as long as Rachel could remember, her mother had done all she could to create a sense of warmth and community here. And, perhaps, the sense of family she’d never found in her own home.

“How was the bachelorette party?” her mother asked, poking the needle with yellow thread onto a blue line from an iron-on pattern. The tiny sound of the thread sliding through the cotton pillowcase brought with it memories of childhood.

How often had Rachel worked on her homework right here in this room while her mom sewed? It had never occurred to Rachel how much of her love of design—and the day-to-day reality of sewing—she’d inherited from her mother.

“I hadn’t planned on going, but Kiersten called to talk me into it and I had fun.” Rachel dropped down into the chair near her mom’s end of the couch.

“And how are the allergies?” she asked, peering over her reading glasses to study her.

Was it Rachel’s imagination or did her mother sound skeptical? Rachel sniffed tentatively to test them. She could smell the fragrant wood fire and cinnamon candle burning along with the ever-present scent of balsam, but her nose didn’t twitch a bit.

“I’m feeling better, actually.” She’d been outside dancing around pine trees, and hadn’t sneezed once. She’d simply switched back to the old antihistamine she used to take when she’d lived here. She didn’t think she’d need her inhaler again.

Although maybe some wheezing would have distracted her from the thoughts she’d been having about Gavin all day. The kiss they’d shared still simmered in her veins hours afterward. What did it mean? She was here to make peace with the past, not relive it.

“Good.” Her mom returned to her sewing. “I didn’t want to have to take the Christmas tree down.”

“I would never ask you do that.” Rachel picked up her mother’s green wicker sewing basket to glance through the patterns and projects in progress there. Dresser scarves and table runners, pillowcases and a Home Sweet Home sampler.

“But I want to make the house a place you’re happy to visit.” Her mother set aside the embroidery hoop and slid off her glasses. “So if I have to choose between a tree and my daughter, it’s a very easy decision.”

“Well, thank you.” Rachel felt selfish for staying away as long as she had. Her mother had friends here, but those bonds had been severely tested eight years ago. “Maybe stress was making my allergies flare up more when I first arrived.”

“Coming home shouldn’t be stressful.” Her mom sat forward on the sofa, shifting to face Rachel. “And on that note, I want to share with you a plan I have for smoothing things over with the town.”

“Why should you feel like you have to smooth anything over?” Rachel tensed, resenting her father for making her mother feel like she had to do anything other than be her wonderful self. “It’s been eight years, and you never did one thing wrong.”

Unlike Rachel, who had added to the drama of her father’s scandal, even if she hadn’t known it at the time. Ditching the Christmas in July parade had been selfish of her, and she’d done it to be with Gavin. Would their relationship have gone anywhere back then if they hadn’t been separated so abruptly?

“I’ve let you think that because I never wanted to betray your father’s secrets. But he wasn’t well at the time.” Her mother reached to cover Rachel’s knee with her hand. “I knew he had been adjusting his medication to try and get on top of a downward spiral. He’d been stressed and distracted for weeks.”

“Mom.” Rachel squeezed her hand. “You couldn’t have possibly anticipated what would happen.”

“But he was also receiving calls from a few different numbers in the Caribbean and I didn’t confront him. I was worried he might be having an affair, but I…I guess I didn’t want to know the truth.”

A chill went through Rachel. “That’s still not your fault. But did you tell the police about those phone numbers?”

“Of course I did.” Indignation made her shoulders pull tight. But then she seemed to deflate again, her right hand touching her bare left ring finger in an absent gesture. “But they were all pay phones.”

“I wish I’d known.” Rachel thought about all the times her mother had told her everything was “fine” back home when she’d called to check on her in the months afterward. “I could have been a better friend to you when you needed one.”