Chapter Ten
With a visit planned to see her mama on Christmas Day, she accepted Kyle’s invitation to be part of the Prescotts’ Christmas Eve celebration. She did so nervously, though, for once more, she had nothing to wear and was convinced she’d spill eggnog on Kyle’s mother’s head or do something else equally embarrassing. As a result, she was a wreck at work the next day. In fact, she was so distraught over the upcoming evening that she once again mixed up tables and orders. She was so distracted, she’d mistaken garlic salt for Parmesan in several of the table shakers. An easy mistake, she’d explained to an irate Pete after he’d gotten it full blast from a reeking customer who would have no trouble warding off vampires on his travels home for the holidays. It was so bad that he sent her home early, but not before another package arrived, tied with another big red bow, and once again, bearing her name.
Janice squealed when she saw that this time it was from Arpeggio, one of the classy boutiques in downtown Asheville. “I wandered in to browse once and couldn’t afford a package of knee-highs, which was the cheapest thing in the store,” she gushed. “Open it!”
Inside, wrapped in pale yellow tissue paper was a stunning green dress—perfect for the night ahead. It was made of lace with a high boat neck and a draped cowl back, showing some skin, yet not too much. The long sleeves were sheer and the waist softly gathered. The hem would hit tastefully above her knee, but it had a side slit that went to mid-thigh, making it sexy, though not skanky. There was also a belt for the waist made of rhinestones.
“I hope these are rhinestones,” Dixie murmured, then her eyes shot to Jan’s. “Surely these are rhinestones.”
“Rhinestones, crystals, or diamonds,” Jan replied with a shrug, while busily pawing through the tissue. “The man can afford whatever he wants, and if he wants to shower lavish gifts on you, babe, let him.”
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
“This!” Her friend held up a card in one hand. “And these.” With the other, she lifted a pair of shoes that matched the belt. “That answers the question about diamonds. No way is anyone buying diamond-encrusted shoes for a dinner at home with the family, even Kyle Prescott.”
“Read the card, Dixie,” Tammy Neal, one of her oldest friends and a classmate from high school, insisted. “I bet he wrote something sweet.”
“I bet he wrote something hot,” Janice said, her brows waggling.
Dixie slipped her thumb under the flap and read the handwritten card.
“What does it say?” Rose Weston demanded from the next stool where she sat eating lunch with Tammy after some last-minute shopping. “I’m hoping for hot. I’ve been married for eight years and now have to get my hotness vicariously through others.”
“Jake’s still fit and handsome, Rose,” Tammy replied. “It’s not like he’s bald, got a beer gut and bad breath, like my Evan. That’s why I kicked his ass to the curb.”
“Okay, I’ll admit my husband is easy on the eyes, but between football and golf, the honeymoon is long since over. With Kyle, I bet it never comes to an end,” she sighed.
Dixie felt her tension ease. The other girls were as moon-eyed as she was over Kyle, and it made her feel normal. Although when surrounded by a room full of Prescotts and Goodwins later tonight, she wouldn’t have her home girls to remind her of that fact.
“Can I text one of you if I start having a meltdown, tonight? Maybe you could tell me about a time when he wasn’t perfect?”
Tammy and Rose looked at each other and shook their heads.
“Sorry,” Rose responded. “I can’t remember him so much as belching. His seat was in front of mine in math, junior year, and I copied his answers on a test. It was the only A I got the entire semester. He was even perfect in trigonometry.”
All three of them turned to Beth Parsons. She was also having lunch with the pair of old friends and had firsthand knowledge of all that was Kyle, seeing that she had been his date to the senior prom, his senior year when she’d been a junior. She’d broken up with him to date Jerry Freeman, who was six feet eight and the captain of the basketball team, because of all things, he was taller than Kyle by five inches and she thought he suited her six-foot frame better. A big, shallow, stupid mistake, one that she admittedly regretted to this day, especially since she’d married Jerry and he also had the previously mentioned beer gut, although his hair was holding up so far.
“Don’t be like me and fuck this up,” Beth warned before she made a sad, slow trek to a vacant table to finish her pie, alone with her regrets.
Dixie bit her lip as she watched her go. “Is this what I have to look forward to? Becoming another sad, forlorn, regret-filled woman in eight to ten years?”
“Not with Kyle,” Janice replied. “You can thumb your nose at the rest of the dumb bitches who let him go. Beth broke up with him, remember?”
“As did Gina Franks, Erin Briscoe, and Willow Phillips. Why they thought there was something better out there, I’ll never know,” Tammy said in disgust. “Dumbass bitches.”
Rose giggled and Janice nodded with the wisdom of a sage.
“It’s almost three o’clock, girl,” Tammy said. “Don’t you have to be ready?”
“Yes, and Pete said I could leave early. I gotta go.”
“I’ll drive you,” Rose volunteered. “Tam, you get the check; you owe me for lunch.” As usual, she started to argue. “We don’t have time for your BS. I bought last time, so this is your get. Have Beth leave the tip.” She helped Janice repack the dress and accessories in the box. “Get your coat.”
Not daring to argue with the mother of three, Dixie got her coat, hat, and gloves, tucking her tip wallet deep into her pocket, then called her Merry Christmases before following Rose out to her car.
An hour and a half later, she was turned out in the second fanciest dress she’d ever worn. Her makeup was perfect from Rose’s light touch, and not to be left out, Tammy, who had barged in while she was still in the shower, had done her hair in a sleek French twist, with a few loose curly tendrils streaming over her shoulders. She’d never felt so beautiful, which explained why Tam’s beautician’s chair was never cold at Nadeen’s.
The girls had left five minutes ago, and Dixie was finally alone. She’d have been better off if they’d stayed to distract her because her mind was conjuring up all sorts of ways she might embarrass herself and Kyle tonight. Number one, falling and busting her butt in a room full of people on her four-inch heels. Or spilling food on her dress, or wine on whoever had the misfortune of sitting next to her. Or getting spinach dip stuck in her teeth. By the time the expected knock came at the door, she had convinced herself she was sick.
“I can’t go,” she said before he had time to step inside.
“Baby, breathe.”
She sucked in a deep gulp of air as he came in and closed the door. It didn’t help much.
“Now tell me what’s wrong,” he ordered gently as he calmly watched her pace.
“I’ll puke in your car. And when I get there, I’ll spill spinach on your mother’s head and get wine stuck in my teeth.”
“What?” he asked, clearly amused by her panic.
She came to a stop, while shaking her head and twisting her hands nervously. “That didn’t come out right.”
“I didn’t think so,” Kyle answered with a grin, so handsome it almost hurt her to watch. He hadn’t shaved, and his beard, which was hot, made him look ruggedly sexy in his dark suit with its green tie that matched her dress.
Despite how fine he was, she scowled at him. “It’s not funny. I’m a wreck and I’ve changed my mind. I’m staying home with Lucy. We’ll have Christmas here together, won’t we, kitty?”
At the invitation, her cat, who was busy winding her body in between and around Kyle’s legs, peered up at her, then sniffed, as if in disdain, before she walked away with her tail in the air. “Traitor. See if you get the salmon treats I’ve got under the tree for you from Santa.”
“Darlin’,” he said, now standing directly in front of her, and he slid both hands up her arms and over her shoulders until they came to a stop with his fingers laced around the back of her neck. He tugged gently and she took a step, coming right up against him, chest to chest. “It’s going to be fine,” he assured her softly. “You look beautiful and despite the fancy attire, it’s only a night at home with my family.”
“How many are expected?”
“Usually everyone is there.”
“Which is how many?”
“Thirty-five.”
Slowly, she blinked. An instant later she reacted, throwing what her mama would refer to as a hissy fit. “That isn’t immediate family, Kyle! That’s your whole freakin’ family tree.”
“Only the left branch,” he teased.
She twisted out of his hands and turned her back to him. “Unzip me. You can return this.”
“Baby, it’s going to be all right.”
“I’m serious. Take it back. I’ve only had it on for ten minutes.”
“I’m not returning your dress, Dixie. It’s stunning on you.” His hands slid around her from behind, one going high to cup a breast, the other splaying low over her belly to pull her bottom against his hips. He bent his head and nuzzled the side of her neck, nipping playfully. “What if I give you a little something to settle you down?”
“Sex? Now? Kyle, we can’t.”
Walking forward, he guided her body in accord with his own toward the couch.
“Honey, please, you’ll ruin my hair and makeup that the girls spent an hour on.”
“I thought you were planning to stay home?”
“I… uh, I can’t think when you’re kissing and touching me.”
Her hips hit the back of the couch and he bent her forward. “Oh, okay,” she said as her palms met the cushions. “Maybe this way won’t mess me up.”
Behind her, he inched up the stretchy fabric, revealing her white satin French-cut panties. She was so glad that after their first time together, she’d gone to the mall and splurged on undies. A Christmas treat for herself, and him. Then she’d gone home and pitched all her embarrassingly old, three for ten dollars discount, plain Jane, boring underwear and bras, replacing them with lace and satin in white, blush, black, and a pretty shade of eggplant purple that she thought Kyle would particularly like.
She was beginning to see the benefit of his brand of stress relief as the satin was tugged down her legs. He didn’t pull them all the way off, instead leaving them around her thighs. His hand covered her bare bottom next, rubbing and caressing her skin, and for the first time since she woke that morning facing the reality of a Prescott family Christmas, she began to relax. His fingers trailed along her cleft and down the seam of her pussy. “You’re very wet.”
“You have that effect on me.”
“Good, I like that I can turn you on with a touch or with my voice. I also want to have a calming effect on you, so that when you’re panicking like when I arrived, you’ll listen to what I say and trust me to take care of you. We’ll get there with a little practice.”
A slap rang out in the small room as his hand came down hard on one cheek. She yelped in surprise, expecting something entirely different. “What on earth?”
Another smack on the other side preceded a sharp fiery sting. It mingled with the tingling sensation of arousal between her thighs and she wiggled, shifting her weight from side to side.
“Hold still.” Two more on each side sent a flooding warmth from her naked backside in a direct line to her pussy.
“Kyle,” she breathed.
“When I tell you it will be okay, I need you to trust that it will be. And,” he added two more slaps, “when I tell you to breathe and relax,” four more were delivered to the fullest curves of her ass, before he stopped and rubbed, deeply, “you need to do as I say.”
What followed was firm smacks alternating with wonderfully soothing caresses. Her skin was alive with sensation, unable to determine which of the two she liked best. It went on for some time, until she felt a warm trickle, the proof of her desire for him, inching down her inner thighs. “I care about you, Dixie, and I’m here for you always. Do you get what I’m saying?”
“Yes, and I trust you to keep me safe.”
“That’s my girl,” he hummed with approval, as he squeezed and massaged the skin he had just ignited. Then his fingers slipped between her thighs and over the wetness that had collected there. “You enjoyed your spanking, didn’t you, baby?”
“You know that I did. I’m a freak.”
“No more than I, who thoroughly enjoyed giving it to you.” Dipping into her slickness with his fingertips, he circled the outermost edge of her channel. She tensed, hoping he would end the torment and slide deep inside, except he moved on to the aching nub in front and began driving her mad by alternating a slow tap with a fast, flicking motion from two fingers. If he kept that up, she’d come in seconds. She shifted, parting her legs as much as her panties would allow. “Please, Kyle.”
“Please what, Dixie? More spanking?”
“Mm,” was her mumbled response as she bit down on the corner of a toss pillow she clutched in an iron grip.
“Or do you want me to finger you to climax? I could eat you, making you mindless with pleasure with my tongue dancing on your clit. Or I could fuck you, bent over the back of the couch until you scream my name. Maybe I’ll do all of it, and after, your knees will be weak, and your pretty brown eyes will have that distant, hazy, well-satisfied look. You won’t be able to panic when you walk into Nana’s house clinging to my arm.”
“Yes,” she whispered hastily.
“Yes to what? There were several options.”
“I choose all of the above.”
His laughter rumbled low in his chest. “Ah, darlin’, I like how you think.”
“Honey, hurry, I need you now.”
The laughter quickly died out and the next instant, her panties were whisked down and off her legs. “Stay right there,” he murmured. His footsteps sounded on the floor as he moved away.
She twisted her head, while staying in position as he’d asked. Straining to see over one shoulder, then looking over the other, anxious from not knowing what he was doing or where he’d gone.
“Face forward,” he ordered softly when he returned.
“Where did you go?”
“I needed to get something, so we could continue.”
Then a crack echoed in the room, followed by a smarting sting across her upper thigh, right where it connected to her bottom.
“Ow!” she squealed.
“I was late in surgery last night, so I didn’t get to give you your punishment spanking.”
Another crack sounded, and the same prickling heat.
“For what?”
“For doubting me the night of the gala, of course.”
“But I apologized.”
“You did, and I appreciate that, but the lesson will drive how what you learned then and what you’ve learned here tonight. From now on, unfailing honesty and trust, Dixie.”
“Yes, Kyle, from now on.”
“Good girl.” Another sharp crack resonated through the room as fire blossomed on her lower cheek.
She tossed her head, twisting to see. “What is that?”
He raised her oval, rubber grip, detangling hairbrush. Holy crap!
“Four more, then we fuck.”
Her lips parted and the breath caught in her throat as he lowered the brush and rubbed the cool, smooth back over the burning ache he had created. Then he changed the angle, and ran it slowly between her thighs, tapping it lightly on her pussy. This caused a husky groan to slip from her lips, before he glided it up and over the curves he’d warmed with his hand.
“Can you be still and take the rest of your punishment without a fuss?”
“Yes,” she moaned, like a madwoman, wanting the rest of the strokes, although they hurt like a bitch. She wanted them for two reasons: to please him, and because she felt she deserved every one of them for doubting him repeatedly.
“That’s my sweet Dixie. Here we go.”
The evil brush, which she’d never look at the same way again, descended over and over, without pause, as he meted out the remaining four swats. She stood motionless, taking them, although she couldn’t say she did so quietly. A wail of pleasure-pain rose from her chest while crack after crack descended on her quivering cheeks.
Her punishment complete, the brush landed on the cushion beside her. The next moment his hands spread her thighs further apart and his mouth came over down upon her. Yet not on her backside; rather, his lips and tongue were busily stoking the fire between her thighs as he gorged himself on her pussy.
She was a lick away from coming, when he stopped.
“Kyle, no, please!” she cried out, but the clink of his belt and the rasp of his zipper told her he wasn’t nearly done. Then he adjusted her feet, his legs supporting her own as he drove deep with a long powerful thrust. Her head flew back, her hair coming free from its carefully done twist.
She was beyond caring, not with his fingers threading into the thick curls at her nape as he gently pulled her upright, his free arm curving diagonally along her belly until his palm cupped her breast. He angled her head and took her mouth at the same time he started driving up inside her, each stroke powering into her as the breath-stealing vibrations of being taken by Kyle Prescott, the crush of her teenage years, the star of her erotic dreams, and now, the man who she loved—and she planned to tell him as much when she could form coherent thoughts—rippled deliciously through her body.
Another pulse-racing surge inside her brought her close, and she moaned that she was into his mouth. As he drove relentlessly into her body, she flew apart in his arms. A spiral of beautiful colors surrounded her as she drifted down to earth, while the groan in her ear—low, deep, and incredibly sexy—told her that he had found it too, as did his body tensing, his arms tightening around her waist, and the fingers flexing in her hair.
His thrusts soon slowed to a glide, gently easing in and out of her until minutes later, when they were both relaxed and breathing normally again, he stopped. He tugged firmly on her hair, which brought her face up to his. As their lips touched, she opened her eyes and gazed into primrose blue orbs flecked with navy and specks of lighter blue.
“Better?”
“Huh?”
He laughed softly. “I was referring to your little freak-out earlier, but I’ll take that as a yes.” His mouth met hers ever so lightly. “While I’d rather stay here and make love to you all night, my family is anxious to meet you.”
And though that thought should have shot her straight to panic mode again, she was too sated, tingling delightfully in more places than she could count. “We’re going to be late, aren’t we?”
“Afraid so.”
“They’ll know why as soon as we walk in,” she predicted in the same sleepy voice.
His eyes rose to her hair before scanning slowly down her face. “You’re tousled and flushed, and your makeup is smudged. So, yes, I’m afraid most of the adults will suspect.”
She shifted in his arms slightly, feeling every inch of his possession. “I need to do repairs, I suppose.”
“In a moment,” he said, gliding in once again, with his still hard cock. “You look well loved, sweetheart, and I want you to keep that feeling with you all night.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”
“Good. If those insecurities start to rear their ugly heads tonight, I want you to taste me on your kiss-tender lips, feel my hand in the lingering heat on your backside, or in the ache my cock created deep inside, and know that even if I’m out of reach for the moment, I’m always with you. Got me?”
“Oh, honey, that’s the sweetest thing ever.”
“Hm, if the spanking and fucking I just gave you were only sweet, I need to work on my technique.”
“No,” she cried abruptly. “Your technique is perfect. The spanking stung like fire, especially that brush, and I hope you only reserve that for especially bonehead moments on my part, because… Ouch! Having you inside me made my body quiver and ache, and your kisses made my brain go off line so that I forgot what I was worrying about. All of it was hot and made my legs weak. What was sweet was the sentiment.”
After lowering his mouth to take hers one more time, he helped her stand, and as she did, she felt all those things he wanted her to and would for the next several hours, probably into tomorrow. She also felt the warmth of his essence on her thighs.
“I need to clean up.” She laid her palms on his cheeks as she stretched for another kiss.
“Hurry now. And while you do that, I’ll give Lucy her Christmas Eve treat.”
“What’s that?” she asked, walking backward slowly to her room, so she could see what he’d brought her little devil.
He pulled a can from his discarded coat and held it up. “Tuna.”
“No wonder she loves you best.”
“How could she not? I think Miss Lucy here is an excellent judge of character. You don’t give her enough credit; she chose you, didn’t she?”
“I suppose she did. Although I’ve had her three years and you’ve known her a few weeks. Her loyalty is in question and she’s obviously fickle.”
“She’s a female, darlin’. She just needed a good man in her life.”
Dixie stopped dead in her retreating tracks and gaped at him. “I can’t believe you said that. This is the twenty-first century, not the nineteen fifties. You sound like your grandmother.”
“I’m here. You’re happy. Was she wrong?”
She smacked her forehead as he chuckled. He also motioned toward the hallway.
“You need to hurry, baby. Dinner is at eight.”
Her head twisted to the clock. It was nearly six-thirty and they had yet to tackle the mountain.
“Great heavenly day,” she cried as she bolted for the bathroom.
* * *
An hour later, Dixie entered the brightly lit Goodwin mansion for the first time, and did so clutching tightly to Kyle’s steady arm. Their hostess was waiting with her arm curled around a beautiful blue-eyed, sandy-haired, middle-aged woman, who could only be Caroline Prescott, her daughter and Kyle’s mother. Behind the two was a tall, handsome, fifty-something man, judging by the silver threads in his hair, who was an older version of Kyle, except for his mother’s coloring. His strong, fit physique was much like his son’s, and boded well for what Dixie could expect Kyle to look like twenty years in the future. Not bad, not bad at all.
Surrounding his parents and the happily beaming family matriarch was a crowd of new faces all smiling in greeting, many looking out at her with what had to be a dominant gene trait in this striking bunch—primrose blue eyes.
Offering a tentative smile as Kyle guided her forward, Dixie clasped Emmaline’s outstretched hands and leaned down to brush her cheek with her own.
“Welcome to our home, my dear, dear friend,” the old woman whispered earnestly. “I hope this is the first of many shared Christmases to come.”
Unable to speak with the lump of emotion in her throat, she nodded, blinking rapidly to keep from weeping like a leaky sieve.
“Don’t start that now,” Emmaline warned, her hand coming up to pat Dixie’s face affectionately. “Or you’ll have to repair your makeup again.” The woman winked knowingly, having placed an emphasis on the last word.
Dixie inhaled sharply. The sly old bird never ceased to amaze her.
“Nana, behave,” Kyle scolded gently, his voice low as he also bent, but instead of a brushing her cheek, he kissed it lightly. “If you embarrass her, I’ll have to repeat the magic I worked to keep her from bailing on us in the first place.”
“My Dixie has a warm heart, not cold feet. I won’t believe it.”
Her face flushed. “Unfortunately, it’s true. My toes were like ice cubes until Kyle thawed them out, among other things,” she admitted baldly.
Miss Emmaline’s tinkling laugh was one of pure joy. “Ah, now there’s the sassy young woman who captivated this old woman’s heart. You remind me of me at your age, dear. I’ve told you that. And my grandson here is the spitting image of my Harvey.” She nodded behind Dixie, who turned and saw the portrait of a redhead standing beside Kyle.
Her jaw dropped. It was as if he had posed for it last week.
Upon closer inspection, she noticed the subtle differences. The young man’s hair was a shade darker with more of a wave, the hairstyle something from a time long past, as was his vintage suit and thin tie. When she focused on the pretty young woman with the quintessential forties up-do, the stunning blue of her eyes was unmistakable. She realized it was Emmaline and her husband, Harvey, with the bride in a pretty white tea dress, glimmering with delicate beading. It was clearly their wedding day, perhaps an evening ceremony.
They stood in the wide doorway to a room with a roaring fire and a huge Christmas tree, and above them hung a glistening mistletoe ball that appeared to be showering the couple in a shimmering, mystical aura. It could have been a trick of the light, or a special technique the artist had used, yet to Dixie, the magic was tangible, as was the love between the two of them.
She turned to remark on that very fact, except Miss Emmaline had already gone inside the front parlor on her daughter and son-in-law’s arms, the rest of the family following. And until that moment, she hadn’t noticed that the doorway through which they’d entered was the same as in the portrait and that a very similar mistletoe ball dangled overhead.
“She knew all along this moment would come,” she breathed as she glanced up at the tall, handsome man beside her.
“It appears so.”
Her eyes shifted to the portrait, then back to the mistletoe. She moved closer. “It’s uncanny, the similarities.”
“I’ve been in this house thousands of times, and passed my grandparents’ image nearly as often, yet I never really saw it until now.” With his gaze fixed upon it, a soft expression that she could only describe as awe appeared on his face.
“I always knew she was special, Kyle, but this…”
“She has that way about her.”
“For me, she’s been more like family than most of my own. I love her to death.”
Dixie moved closer. As her hands slid up his chest and around his neck, she tipped her head and looked meaningfully up at the green ball with its pearly white berries. Beaming happily, she rose on tiptoe, her mouth stopping a fraction shy of his.
“You don’t have to ask this time, honey. I choose both; deep romance and enduring friendship. And, I choose you, Kyle Prescott, because I love you with all of my heart.”
His kiss was his reply, and she felt it in the hungry press of his lips and every swirling sweep of his tongue. It wasn’t until long minutes later, when cries of ‘hurry it along’ drifted to them from inside, that they realized they had an audience.
“C’mon, supper is getting cold!”
“I’m starved. If you’re not gonna eat, get a room.”
“Yeah, or save it for later, ‘cause Nana ain’t getting any younger while we wait.”
Someone could be heard scolding over the good-natured chuckles, including Emmaline’s, “Don’t be ugly, Jeffrey. It’s Christmas.”
Kyle raised his head while still holding her clasped firmly against his chest, his extraordinary eyes gleaming with happiness in the soft light. “Not so refined and cultured now, are they?”
“Depends on where you come from.” A small smile of delight curved her lips. “And from where I stand, I think they’re lovely.”
“Not half as lovely as you,” he murmured. “Merry Christmas, sweet Dixie. And I love you too, with all my heart. I think I have since I was seventeen.”
After she battled back tears and succumbed to another steamy, too-brief kiss beneath the mistletoe, he led her in to where the family was waiting.
“Excellent,” Miss Emmaline said as they joined them. “Now that everyone is here we can go in to dinner.”
“Except for Marcy,” someone said. “Shouldn’t we wait?”
Their hostess sniffed delicately. “She was disinvited this year, and we are enjoying such a drama-free holiday because of it, I’m thinking of making it permanent.”
“Marcy?” Dixie asked, her throat gone dry.
“Yes,” Emmaline replied, “and that reminds me of a piece of news, Caroline. There is a recent opening on the CFWNC advisory panel that I think you would be perfect for, or if you are too busy, perhaps Dixie might serve.”
“Mother,” Caroline gasped. “You didn’t.”
She didn’t answer, except for an evasive shrug.
“I don’t understand,” Dixie whispered to Kyle. “What’s the CF whatever?”
Mrs. G., who had nothing wrong with her hearing, answered, “The CFWNC, dear. It’s a community foundation, which many of the local business use to administer their philanthropic endeavors: Prescott Industries, Goodwin Global, and the Biltmore Company, to name a few.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Trisha was on the advisory board,” Kyle explained. “It was a bragging right for her.”
“Which she carped on incessantly,” Emmaline grumbled. “She will be getting a certified letter first thing Monday morning that her appointment has ended.”
Beside Dixie, Kyle chuckled while his grandmother gave her a conspiratorial wink before she added, “I hear karma is a real bitch, dear.”
“You know!” she breathed.
“Of course,” Emmaline said with a grin. “And I’m heartbroken that I missed it. You are the talk of the town. And I applaud you for it. Those two… Well, I’m too much of a lady to say what they are. But Dixie dear, believe me when I say, I couldn’t have done it as artfully myself.”
Dixie gaped in amazement; the sly old woman knew everything it seemed.
What followed was the best Christmas Eve she could remember. Filled with so many smiles that her cheeks were sore, there was also good food, wine, wonderful people, and lots of presents. With a last-minute invite, Dixie didn’t have time, or the money, to come prepared, especially with so many. She only had two gifts to give.
The first she planned to give to Kyle later, one of the few non-landscape paintings she’d ever attempted. People—real ones, not caricatures—were a challenge for her, so she stuck to what she did best. However, this unique painting had come from somewhere deep inside. It was one of a doctor with a small child, which seemed the perfect gift for a man who gave so much to others, especially the young.
The other was for Miss Emmaline. It was a landscape, not of the cold starkness of winter, but of springtime at nearby Bridal Veil Falls. With her camera, she’d caught it in the perfect light so that the water, which started overhead with frothy white water, then fell in a shimmering cascade, resembled a bride’s veil. On that early spring day, it had been surrounded by a rich palette of greens from the trees and a mix of purples and reds from the redbuds that were in bloom. When she’d picked it out for her weeks ago, it hadn’t had as much meaning as it did after seeing her friend as a bride, with her beloved husband.
The old woman’s eyes turned wet as Kyle helped her unwrap it. “I have the perfect place for it in my bedroom.” Her gaze swept the room and stopped on her daughter. “You know the one, Caro, over the table near the French doors.”
“The lighting will set if off beautifully, Mama.” His mother then sent a warm smile her way. “You are very talented, Dixie.”
Miss Emmaline was genuinely touched and dabbing at tears on her cheeks. “Thank you so much, my dear. I will treasure it.”
Dixie got a bit misty too, squeezing her dear friend’s hand. “It makes me happy to give it to someone who will enjoy it as much as I enjoyed painting it.”
“Let’s not all cry,” she whispered, as she waved for Kyle to set it aside, watching like a mother hen over one of her precious chicks so he didn’t mar it. When it was safely away, she pulled out a long box and passed it to Dixie. “This is for you.”
She accepted the unusually shaped gift box and rested it on her lap. As she untied the bow, Dixie peeked up at Kyle in question. He seemed at as much of a loss and shrugged his ignorance. With the wrapping off, she lifted the lid and pushed the tissue aside. Then she laughed.
There was a chorus of “what is it” with one of the young cousins insisting that she hold it up. Reaching inside, she lifted the taupe and black lace umbrella from the box. Having admired it for so long as it hung forgotten—or so she thought—on the coatrack at Pete’s, she could honestly say, “It’s just what I wanted.”
The three of them grinned at the secret meaning while the others looked at one another, completely baffled by the significance. Emmaline didn’t elaborate, choosing to keep the tale amongst the three of them, and directed the next in line to open a present.
As she ran her fingers over the lace, she felt the cushions shift as Kyle settled beside her.
“Aren’t you glad you came?” he murmured for her ears only.
“Yes,” she replied, leaning into his chest. “Your family is wonderful. And I have been a judgmental fool.”
“Don’t dwell on that, I told you I’d help you grow out of it.” His arm around her shoulders hugged her close. She twisted around to face him, looking up into the beautiful primrose shade of blue, which had recently become her favorite color, and basked in the warmth of his gaze. Someone called his name, and when his attention shifted away, her eyes lingered on his cherished face with its classically handsome profile for another moment, before it was drawn to the doorway nearby.
And there, with the magical mistletoe adorning the entrance to Miss Emmaline’s welcoming and quite lovely home, the hallway beyond graced with the stunning portrait of his beloved grandparents, she curled into Kyle’s side, daydreaming of a lifetime of more Christmases surrounded by family, happiness, and laughter, and more love than Dixie ever imagined possible.