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.”
“Oh, honey, no. That’s not the idea you should take away at all.” Her mother shook her head so adamantly, the loose barrette holding her chin-length hair slid right out. “I’m only telling you now so you understand that I have every bit as much misplaced guilt as you do.”
Frowning, Rachel tried to follow what her mother was saying. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You think that I can’t possibly be responsible for your father’s actions, and you’re right. I’m not. But that doesn’t keep me from wondering what I could have done differently.” She reached into the side of her sewing basket and withdrew a plain brown envelope. “We both wrestle with guilt simply because we loved a flawed man.”
“So your point is we should both stop.” Rachel’s eyes remained on the envelope.
If she stopped feeling guilty about her dad, did that mean she could stop feeling guilty about Gavin, too? The thought crept through the back of her mind before she could halt it. No matter if it made sense or not, she had regretted hurting Gavin’s friendship with Luke.
“We owe it to ourselves to leave the past far behind us.” Her mother clutched the envelope tighter. “And I think I’m going to finally be able to do that once I give the town this.” Her mother passed her the envelope.
Too heavy to be a letter, the packet sat awkwardly in Rachel’s hand. She lifted the flap.
A fat stack of hundred-dollar bills filled the stiff paper.
“Mom—”
“Fourteen thousand dollars.” Her mother smiled triumphantly. “I’m repaying the town every cent your father stole.”
*
Rachel worked all the next day on the bridesmaid dresses, and late into the night. She hoped the soothing whir of the sewing machine would help her forget her mom’s scheme to repay the town, a plan Rachel had argued against for long afterward. For one thing, that debt was not her mother’s to pay. For another, giving Yuletide the money would surely only draw new attention to a scandal that had taken forever to die down in the first place. And finally, the local government had been reimbursed for the theft long ago by their insurance policy. Rachel had checked personally with the police since it had worried her too.
But none of those arguments seemed to sway her mother, who had some misguided notion that writing the town a check would buy acceptance for the remaining members of the Chambers family. So Rachel had sewed all day to put it out of her mind along with the fact that she still hadn’t spoken to Luke to smooth things over before the wedding in two days. Oh, and she also wanted to forget about Gavin’s question that still kept circling her brain.
What if I don’t want you to leave?
The crimson satin snagged in the machine, the bobbing needle slowing to a halt. Unfortunately, her work hadn’t really provided the mental escape she needed even though it was almost midnight. If anything, she was putting the dresses at risk by continuing to tweak them when her brain churned with unsettling thoughts. Technically, she was finished with the bridal party attire anyhow. She’d kept herself busy by creating decorative tags inside each dress with the wearer’s name and the date of Kiersten and Luke’s wedding.
Would Rachel ever have a wedding of her own? She hadn’t really dated anyone seriously since the debacle with Luke. She’d gone out, of course, but always in a more casual group as opposed to alone time with a guy. She’d been focused on her career. But being back home, seeing her friend get ready to marry, made her think about her own future. For a moment, she imagined herself walking down the aisle in a dress of her own design. In her mind’s eye, she saw Gavin in a tuxedo…
Beside her, her phone vibrated as she pulled the last dress out of the machine.