That Holiday Feeling (Virgin River #8)(13)

Before she could answer, the elevator stopped at the lobby floor and the doors opened. Philip was grateful for the chance to escape.

“Obviously not,” she answered, but her eyes went blank and she stared past him. Then she leaned over and stabbed the basement button again. She crouched down to collect her laundry as he stepped out, clutching his gym bag.

He felt guilty and sad. He hadn’t meant to hurt Carrie. She’d touched Mackenzie’s life and his with her generosity of spirit.

Philip cursed himself for the fool he was.

“Go after her,” a voice behind him advised.

Irritated, he turned to find Maria and Madame Frederick standing behind him.

“She’s a good woman,” Maria said, holding a fat calico cat on her arm, stroking its fur. “You won’t find another like her.”

“You could do worse.” Madame Frederick chuckled. “The fact is, you already have.”

“Would you two kindly stay out of my affairs?”

Both women looked taken aback by his gruff, cold response to their friendly advice.

“How rude!” the retired schoolteacher exclaimed.

“Never mind, dearie. Some men need more help than we can give them.” Madame Frederick’s words were pointed.

Disgusted with the two busybodies, and even more so with himself, Philip hurried out of the apartment building, determined that, from here on out, he was taking the stairs. Without exception.

Six

“Did I ever tell you about Randolf?” Madame Frederick asked as she poured Carrie a cup of tea the next Saturday morning. “We met when I was a girl. All right, I was twenty, but a naive twenty. I knew the moment our eyes met that I should fear for my virtue.” She paused, her hand holding the lid of the teapot in place, her eyes caught in the loving memory of forty years past. Laughing softly, she continued. “We were married within a week of meeting. We both knew we were meant to be together. It was useless to fight fate.”

“He was your husband?” Although Madame Frederick had obviously loved him deeply, she rarely talked about her marriage.

“Yes.” She sighed. “The man who stole my heart. We had thirty happy years together. We fought like cats and dogs and we loved each other. Oh, how we loved each other. One look from that man could curl my toes. He could say to me with one glance what would take three hundred pages in a book.”

Carrie added sugar to her tea and stirred. Her hand trembled slightly as her mind drifted back to the kisses she’d shared with Philip in the elevator. She’d taken the stairs ever since. She’d been kissed before, plenty of times, but it had never felt like it had with Philip. What unsettled her was how perfectly she understood what her neighbor was saying about Randolf.

“I didn’t remarry after he died,” Madame Frederick said as she slipped into the chair next to Carrie. “My heart wouldn’t let me.” She reached for her teacup. “Not many women are as fortunate as I am to have found a love so great, and at such a tender age.”

Carrie sipped her tea and struggled to concentrate on Madame Frederick’s words, although her thoughts were on Philip—and his kisses. She wanted to push the memories out of her mind, but they refused to leave.

“I wanted to give you your Christmas present early,” Madame Frederick announced and set a small, wrapped package in her lap.

“I have something for you, too, but I was going to wait until Christmas.”

“I want you to open yours now.”

The older woman watched as Carrie untied the gold ribbon and peeled away the paper. Inside the box was a small glass bowl filled with dried herbs and flowers. Despite the cellophane covering, she could smell the concoction. Potpourri? The scent reminded her a bit of sage.

“It’s a fertility potion,” Madame Frederick explained.

“Fertility!” Carrie nearly dropped the delicate bowl.

“Brew these leaves as a tea and—”

“Madame Frederick, I have no intention of getting pregnant anytime soon!”

The woman smiled and said nothing.

“I appreciate the gesture, really I do.” She didn’t want her friend to think she wasn’t grateful, but she had no plans to have a child within the foreseeable future. “I’m sure that at some point down the road I’ll be brewing up this potion of yours.” She took another drink of her tea and caught sight of the time. “Oh, dear,” she said, rising quickly to her feet. “I’m supposed to be somewhere in five minutes.” Mackenzie had generously offered to buy her lunch as a Christmas gift. Philip’s daughter had written the invitation on a lovely card shaped like a silver bell.

“Thank you again, Madame Frederick,” she said, downing the last of the tea. She carefully tucked the unwrapped Christmas gift in her purse and reached for her coat.

“Come and visit me again soon,” Madame Frederick said.

“I will,” Carrie promised. She enjoyed her time with her neighbor, although she generally didn’t understand how Madame chose their topics of conversation. Her reminiscences about her long-dead husband had seemed a bit odd, especially the comment about fearing for her virtue. It was almost as if Madame Frederick knew what she and Philip had been doing in the darkened elevator. Her cheeks went red as she remembered the way she’d responded to him. There was no telling what might have happened had the lights not come on when they did.