A Fool's Gold Christmas (Fool's Gold #9.5)

He wrapped his arm around her and drew her inside. “Stay close. I’ll protect you.”


For a second she allowed herself to believe he wasn’t just being funny. That he was someone she could depend on. She knew better, of course. Her family had taught her that the people who were supposed to love you back usually didn’t and that it was far safer to simply be alone. She was done with love.

* * *

DINNER WAS MORE ENJOYABLE than Evie had allowed herself to hope was possible. With ten people sitting around a large table, it was easy to avoid awkward silences and difficult questions. Even more fortunate, May had sat at the opposite end, on the same side, so Evie didn’t have to try to avoid her at all.

Once everyone had eaten their fill of turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, vegetables, olives, rolls and a very confusing Jell-O mold, conversation turned to the holiday season in Fool’s Gold.

“You pretty much need a schedule of events on the refrigerator,” Charlie was saying. “The town starts decorating this weekend. Next Saturday night is the tree lighting.”

Heidi leaned against Rafe. “We’re doing hayrides.”

Dante turned to her. “What?”

Shane groaned. “Hayrides. Horses pulling sleighs.” He glanced out at the rapidly darkening night. “Or wagons if we don’t get snow.”

Evie knew he sounded exasperated but guessed it was all an act. Shane liked everything about the ranch, including the close proximity to town. More important to him was how Annabelle enjoyed the holidays.

She glanced around the table, startled to realize all her relatives were paired up. A year ago everyone had been single. Since the last holiday season, Rafe and May had both married and Shane and Clay had gotten engaged. Annabelle was pregnant. This time next year Shane and Annabelle would have their baby. Heidi and Charlie would probably be pregnant, and she would be gone.

“I ate too much,” Glen, May’s husband, said as he pushed back from the table. “Wonderful dinner. Thank you.”

May smiled at him. “It wasn’t just me. Everyone helped.”

“Not me,” Evie said, suddenly wanting a few minutes away from her family. “So I insist on cleaning up. Everyone carry your plates into the kitchen, then leave me to it.”

“You can’t do all the dishes yourself,” Heidi said.

“There’s a brand-new dishwasher that says otherwise,” Evie told her.

“I’ll help,” Dante said. “I’m good at taking orders.”

“We all know that’s not true,” Rafe said. “But, hey, if he wants to wash, I say let him.”

It only took a few minutes to clear the table. Heidi took charge of the leftovers and put them neatly away in the refrigerator, then Evie shooed her out so she could start rinsing the dishes. As promised, Dante stayed behind and began stacking serving pieces.

May walked in. “I want to help.”

Evie forced a smile. “You made most of the dinner. I can handle this.”

Her mother stared at her. “You really hate me, don’t you?”

Evie felt her shoulders slump. “Mom, it’s Thanksgiving. Why do you have to make me helping with cleanup more than it is?”

“Because you’ve been avoiding me.” She pressed her lips together. “I know you had a difficult childhood and it’s my fault. It’s just that you…” Tears filled her eyes, and she looked away.

Evie told herself to be sympathetic. That nothing would be gained by snapping or complaining. There was no new material here. Just the same half-truths and partial explanations.

May sniffed. “Can’t you forgive me?”

Evie folded her arms across her chest in what she knew was a protective and not very subtle gesture. “Sure. You’re forgiven.”

“You’re still angry.” May drew in a breath. “I know I wasn’t there for you, when you were little. There were so many responsibilities.”

“I’m sure it was difficult to raise four children on your own,” Evie told her. “But we both know that’s not the problem. The problem is you had a one-night stand a few months after your husband died, and I’m the result. The problem is, every time you look at me, you’re reminded of your moment of weakness. You never wanted me, and, growing up, you made sure I knew it. It’s not enough that I don’t even know who my father is. I ended up with a mother who didn’t give a damn.”

May clutched at her throat. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? You blamed me for being born. That’s my big crime. When I was little, you wanted nothing to do with me. You were never there for me. You weren’t overtly mean, but you also weren’t interested. You and my brothers had special things you did together. Rituals and celebrations. Things I wasn’t a part of. It was the four of you as a family and then me on the outside looking in. My brothers did their best with me, but it wasn’t their job to raise me. It was yours and you didn’t bother.”