mother also hadn’t been pleased with Lacey’s decision. But then she and her mother had never been really close. Her father had been the steadying force in her life as a child and as a teenager. Her mother had worked at Macy’s for as far back as Lacey could remember—long hours and all holidays, leaving little time for her family.
Her parents were mismatched, and Lacey had never understood how they’d gotten together. Her mother was a social person who liked to go out after work. Her father had been a homebody who had enjoyed tinkering around the house.
Jack Carroll had been a postman, and her mother always had been on his case about drive and ambition. She’d wanted him to have a desk job. She’d wanted him to have prestige. It had all come to a head after her father had declined a desk job at the post office. Her mother had told him to get out and never come back. And he had. Then she’d blamed him for leaving. Her mother was the victim, and Lacey had grown tired of hearing that story.
But she was Lacey’s mother, and Lacey loved her even though it was hard sometimes to deal with her. She had no idea how she was going to fit Christmas in with her mother, because her mother refused to be around Emma. Somehow she blamed the child for the reason Jack never came back.
Emma was sound asleep, holding her bear. Lacey wondered how anyone could blame an innocent child. And she wondered if her life would be filled with anything other than heartache. Getting up, she yawned, reached for the remote control and clicked off the TV. She lifted Emma into her arms and carried her to bed.
Tomorrow had to be a better day.
And the man next door had to be in a better mood. They’d made a start. Now Lacey waited for the next encounter.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING Lacey was in a hurry to make the ten o’clock mass. Emma was being stubborn, not wanting to wear a dress or put a bow in her hair. But Lacey won that round. They walked through the doors of the little Catholic Church in Horseshoe just as the bell chimed.
Emma fidgeted during the service, and Lacey had to give her a couple of sharp stares to keep her still. Afterward, they came out of church to a cold winter day. In the parking lot, Lacey said hello to Angie and Hardy Hollister. She had met Angie when she’d first moved here. Angie was very nice and had wanted to help as much as she could after Jack’s death. Angie’s friend Peyton was the same. Hardy was the D.A., and Peyton’s husband, Wyatt Carson, was the sheriff.
Emma brightened when she saw Angie and Hardy’s daughter. Erin was almost twelve, but Emma considered her a friend.
Erin took Emma’s hand and they ran to say hello to Erin’s grandma and the Wiznowski family. They were a big family and owned the busiest place in town, the bakery. Lacey was still learning all of their names.
“Why does Emma look so sad?” Angie asked, her hand on her stomach. She was due at the end of March and she positively glowed.
“Brad Wilson told her there’s no Santa Claus and now she doesn’t want to have Christmas.”
“How awful.”
Hardy had his arm around his wife, and he rubbed her shoulder in a loving gesture. “Kids can be cruel.”
Erin and Emma came running back and they said goodbye. Angie bent down to Emma. “Merry Christmas.”
Emma twisted in her Mary Jane shoes and didn’t respond.
Lacey took Emma’s hand and they walked to the car. They went to the diner for lunch before heading home. Emma was very quiet. She probably was feeling lonely, just like Lacey was.
Emma plopped onto the sofa. “Can Jimmy come over to play?”
“No. He’s gone to his grandmother’s today. Change your clothes and we’ll play games or something.”
“No.” The word was spoken in an angry tone.
Lacey gave her a minute. Then she placed her hands on her hips. “Go change your clothes. Now!”
Emma jumped up and ran to her room. Lacey groaned. Another one of those days. They were due for a good one. Soon.
After slipping into jeans and a pullover top, she went to check on Emma. The little girl was lying on her bed, reading a book. She took after her mother. Mona had been a librarian.
Lacey glanced around the lavender, white and purple room she’d helped their father decorate. Emma was not a girlie girl and had not wanted a pink room. Her father had bought all kinds of Barbies and a Barbie doll house and numerous other Barbie toys, but Emma barely touched them. She liked the outdoors and would rather play with a ball instead of a doll. But she did love stuffed animals, and they littered the comforter on her white four-poster bed.
Lacey sat beside her sister. “What are you reading?”
Emma closed A Light in the Attic and scooted up. “Why don’t I have a grandma?”
Oh, that was the reason for the sulkiness. “You did have a grandma. Two, actually. Dad’s mom’s name was Martha and your mom’s was Ruth. Grandma Martha died when I was fifteen. She would’ve loved you.”
“She would?”
“You bet. She gave big hugs and made everyone feel loved. I always looked forward to staying with her during the summer.”
“What about my other grandma?”
Lacey took a breath, hating to talk about so many deaths. But she had to be honest. “She died, too, sweetie. I never met her. She was a librarian like your mother.”
Emma stared down at her sneakers. “Why does everybody have to die?”
Lacey frantically opened the book in her head and searched for answers. As always, none was suitable. She had to go with her gut feeling. “That’s life, sweetie, and as you get older you’ll understand more.” That sounded lame even to her own ears. She was terrible at this. Hugging Emma, she said, “You know what? You can call me Lacey or you can call me Grandma. I can be both.”
Emma giggled. With a hand over her mouth, she said, “You’re weird, Lacey.”
“How about if we walk to the park and play on the big slide and swing set?”
“’Kay.” Emma jumped off the bed. “They have a really big slide. It makes my stomach feel funny and it’s fun.”
“Let’s get our coats and go, then.”
Emma grabbed her coat from a chair. As Lacey went to her room to get hers, the buzz of her cell phone stopped her.
“Just a minute, Emma. I have to answer my phone.”
It was her mother. Lacey sank onto the bed, ready for another round of complaints. “Hi, Mom.”
Her mother wasted no time getting started. “Since you couldn’t spend Thanksgiving with me, I was hoping we could spend Christmas together.”
Lacey closed her eyes and counted to three. “Mom, you know I can’t leave Emma at Christmas.”
“What about me? Your own mother? You have no time for me anymore. I don’t know what Jack was thinking when he asked you to take care of that child. You’re a young woman and should have your own life.”
They had been through this so many times, and Lacey had grown weary of the subject. “It was my choice. Mona’s sister offered to take Emma, but she has four children of her own. If Emma was taken from the home she’d shared with Dad, I knew it would be detrimental for her. I love my sister and I couldn’t put her through that. I’m here and I intend to stay here. I will work something out for Christmas.”
“Like what?”
“If you would just accept Emma, you could come to Horseshoe.”
“I’m not stepping foot in the house your father shared with that woman.”
Lacey wanted to beat her head against