Chapter Nine
A few days later, following a long, turbulent, and tear-filled week, she woke to see more snow falling outside her window. It reminded her of the brief time she’d spent with Kyle, cozy, protected, just the two of them isolated from the world and falling in love, like in her dreams. But like so many of her dreams, in the morning, when reality crept in, the memory was quick to fade.
Downcast, she pulled the covers over her head, blocking out the pretty sight and the emotions stirring inside her. She couldn’t summon the strength to lift her head off her pillow, let alone force herself to get up and get ready. And after lying there well past the time she should have been out the door, she did something she’d never done in all the years she’d worked for Pete. She called in sick.
In hindsight, it would have been better to go into work, because left with only her thoughts to occupy her, she replayed the terrible gala evening and how they had left things.
After a silent drive home, Kyle—ever the gentleman—had walked her to her door. There he’d said goodnight with only a halfhearted promise to call.
“Not tomorrow,” he added. “I have the day off, but this past week wiped me out and I need to sleep. Next week.”
He didn’t kiss her, simply walked away with a quiet finality. Dixie suspected what that meant for their future, but as the days passed, and no call came, she came to the realization that it was over.
And why did that hurt so much, after such a short time together? Only a week… No, less. It really came down to the forty-eight hours when they were snowbound.
On Monday, when she didn’t hear from him, she tried to convince herself it was for the best, although she held her breath every time the phone rang at the diner.
No call came on Tuesday, either.
Now it was Wednesday and she didn’t think she could take another day of sympathetic looks from Janice, or of Pete shaking his head in disgust. Mrs. G. was due in today and she couldn’t face more questions or another explanation of how she’d messed up one of the best things that had ever happened in her miserable life.
Though guilt ridden for leaving them shorthanded, she still called her boss, relieved when Lester answered instead. Although when he scolded her for mooning over a jerk who didn’t have the sense to recognize the prize he had in front of him, and then proceeded to offer to hunt his ass down and set his head on straight, she wished Pete had picked up. Somehow, she dragged herself to the kitchen to feed a protesting Lucy, who was beside herself that her breakfast was late. She also managed to shower and dress, but had climbed back in bed when her phone rang later that morning. It wasn’t Kyle. Yet, the call snapped her out of her funk and sent her speeding down the mountain to Asheville.
Within an hour, she was rushing into the lobby of County General.
Winded, she hurried to the information desk where a white-haired lady in a pink coat sat squinting at a computer screen.
“Emmaline Goodwin,” she began between ragged breaths. “She was brought in today. What room is she in, please?”
As Dixie waited on pins and needles, the older woman took forever to key in the name. Then, as if she had all day, she removed her bargain-rack drugstore readers, cleaned them off, slipped them back on, and resumed squinting at the screen. Stopping short of rudely drumming her fingers on the desk, Dixie stared at her impatiently, trying to will her to hurry things along. Nothing helped, however.
She was consumed with worry for her dear, old friend, who even while sick had thought to have someone call Dixie and let her know she wouldn’t be arriving for her usual Wednesday lunch. “She didn’t want you to fret,” the woman on the phone had explained.
And she would have done exactly that, although fretting was too mild a word considering it would have been the first time Emmaline had missed in nearly a decade. The caller had no other information, except that she had gone to the hospital that morning.
While the minutes dragged, the stitching on the woman’s pink coat caught her attention. ‘Anna Franklin, Volunteer’ it read in script across the front. It reminded her of Kyle’s white lab coat, the one he’d worn when they passed out cookies together. The same one her fingers had curled into while they’d shared a first kiss—and then some—in the hospital stairwell. It was a wonderful memory, although it was odd what had triggered it. Other than the stitching, Kyle’s and Anna’s inscriptions were hardly alike. Then again, everything made her think of him these days.
“Goodwin, you say?” The woman’s thin, wavering voice refocused her to the matter at hand—Emmaline. She shook her head. “I don’t see anyone by that name.”
“Are you sure? Please, check again.” She watched her obviously arthritic fingers slowly retype the last name. Trying to keep her cool, Dixie spelled it out for her. “G-o-o-d-w-i-n. Not Godwin, people make that mistake.”
She peered at the monitor while shaking her head, yet again. “We only have two patients under G in house, dear, and none in the emergency department. I’m sorry. Maybe she’s already been discharged?”
“I got the call an hour ago that she was here.”
“Perhaps they took her to Asheville Memorial?”
She frowned, not understand what was going on.
“Dixie?”
Turning at her name, she found Kyle had paused inside the sliding glass doors at the entrance, snowflakes dotting his thick hair. She thanked the woman and moved toward him. He worked here; maybe he could figure out where Emmaline would be.
“What are you doing here? Are you looking for me? I’ve got an emergency, I can’t—”
“No,” she cut in quickly. “A friend of mine was brought here, but they don’t have a record of her being here. Can you check?”
“I’m here to see someone too, let me call up to admissions.”
“Dixie.” She turned again at the sound of her name, searching the lobby. She didn’t see anyone she knew.
Beside her, Kyle had moved as well, but the opposite way.
“Nana,” he said, relief in his voice. “What are you doing outside?”
“Waiting for you two stubborn youngsters to come to your senses.”
Recognizing that voice, she spun back, startled to see Miss Emmaline standing outside on the wide, snow-dusted walkway. And she was smiling, seeming hale and hearty. Well, as much as a ninety-year-old ever could. Dixie started through the doors, but froze abruptly as she noticed what she held in her hand.
It was the umbrella in taupe lace that Kyle had retrieved from the diner that day. She glanced from her to him in confusion when something else clicked in her brain.
“She’s your other relative!”
“I don’t…” he began in confusion. “She’s my grandmother, yes. Do you know her?”
Her head snapped around and she gaped at her friend. “You sneak! It was yours all along. You set us up.”
“I merely gave you a gentle nudge in the right direction.”
“More like a colossal push,” Dixie accused.
“What’s going on?” Kyle asked, sounding completely bewildered.
She tilted her head up to him. “You didn’t know?”
“Didn’t know what? Would someone tell me what’s going on? It’s like listening to a one-sided conversation.”
“He didn’t know, dear. Or he wouldn’t have gone along with it. He’s as stubborn as you. As well as giving, loyal, dedicated, and in need of a good, strong woman by his side. As much as you need a good, strong man.”
“Nana,” now there was a touch of irritation in his voice, “what have I told you about matchmaking? I really don’t need help.”
“Is that why it took you a dozen years to patch things up with Dixie?” Emmaline challenged. “Then when you do, you turn right around and muck it up? And you,” her blue eyes zeroed in on her next, “I practically laid the perfect man at your feet, yet you’re either too blind to see it or too obstinate to let go of the past. He is not your daddy, by any means, or your brother, or any of the bonehead boyfriends you’ve had the bad taste to pick out. And he’s definitely not like that obnoxious Spencer Hicks. I told Kyle the first time I met that little twerp that he was trouble and to steer clear. Did he listen?”
“Yes,” Kyle answered. “After the incident with Dixie I only spoke to him when I had to.”
“Truly?” Dixie asked, twisting her head to peer up at him.
He shot her an impatient look. “I’ve told you I thought he was an asshole.”
“A bit vulgar, dear, but I agree. I know his grandmother, poor thing. Much to her dismay, he never improved with age. He’s become a perpetual student it seems, and she’s always lamenting what a grave disappointment he is.” She shook her head sadly before her focus shifted to her successful grandson. Dixie could almost hear her unfinished statement—unlike Kyle.
“Now, I’m off. Walter…” She took his proffered arm. “Hold onto me tight. I visited my friend Estelle, who slipped on the ice and broke her hip. I don’t want to do the same.”
Dixie hadn’t noticed Walter standing nearby. Had he been by the doors as she’d flown into the lobby? For that matter, had Emmaline and her Rolls?
“Nana, this discussion isn’t over,” Kyle warned.
“Did she call you too?” Dixie asked.
“Someone did. Probably one of her volunteer friends.”
A volunteer… That notion had her turning to Anna Franklin at the volunteer desk who was avidly observing the scene. Caught, she winked and waved at Emmaline, then turned to help someone who walked up. Dixie noticed her fingers—not looking arthritic at all—were flying over her keyboard this time, and the woman didn’t even have on her blasted reading glasses.
“We’ve been scammed by a duo of sneaky senior citizens.”
“Oh, pooh,” Emmaline replied. “You both needed a push.”
“And you, young man,” she added, tilting her chin Kyle’s way. “You sound like your daddy when he’s gearing up for a lecture. The only discussion I’ll be having with you is when and your gal come to thank me for helping you pull your heads out of your collective asses.”
Dixie gasped, thoroughly amazed. The Grande Dame of the south had said pooh and asses!
To Walter, she spoke more softly. “If we don’t go now, dear, we’ll be late for Nadeen. And you know how she gets. I had to shift my appointment to deal with these two, which was kind of her to accommodate with such little notice.”
“Yes, ma’am. An irritated Nadeen with scissors isn’t a sight I relish anytime soon.”
She laughed as she tilted her head and considered him. “You know, Walter, you and she are of a similar age, and are both single.”
“Miss Emmaline, don’t you dare. That woman scares me, and she’s buried three husbands already.”
“I thought you were made of sterner stuff. Nadeen is still a fine figure of a woman.”
“I got eyes, ma’am, and she can be a fine figure to husband number four or forty-four, but none of them is gonna be me.”
Her laughter drifted to them as she swatted Walter’s arm. “You are too much. If I was only twenty years younger.”
“You’d be seventy and still three years older than me.”
“Seventy is the new fifty, I hear.”
“When ninety becomes the new thirty-five, you call me, old gal.”
Like the best friends they were, they continued their banter until Mrs. G. was tucked into the rear seat and Walter shut the door. As he did his usual rounding of the hood, she gazed out to where she and Kyle now stood under the awning in the December chill. Miss Emmaline waved as the Rolls pulled away, and as it did, the sun broke through the clouds, for the first time in weeks, it seemed.
“She’s incorrigible, Kyle. If any woman needed a reason to get her bottom blistered, it is your Nana. I can’t believe she set us up.”
“Two things. First, don’t mention my Nana’s bottom or any other part of her anatomy in any kind of spanking context or the like.” He shook his head. “No.”
She grinned. “Sorry. What’s the second thing?”
“We do have her to thank for bringing us together.”
“We’re together? Since when? Why am I always the last one to find out about things between you and me? Or a say in things, for that matter?”
“You’re not the last to know, Dix,” he replied as one of his strong arms wrapped around her waist and he moved her out from in front of the glass doors and the view of the lobby. “You’ve felt this attraction as strongly as I, ever since the day I came in to fetch that damn umbrella.”
“You mean the day you almost cracked my ribs when I choked on a sesame seed? I didn’t breathe comfortably for a week after that.”
He pressed her up against one of the wide concrete pillars that bracketed the entryway and held up the overhang. Propping a forearm beside her head, his body moved closer, and with the arm still around her waist, she was caged in.
“You felt the pull as strongly as I, admit it.” He smiled when her mouth snapped shut, owning up to nothing. “And you get a say, never doubt it. But I’m hoping you’ll say yes.”
“To what?” she breathed, his face disconcertingly close.
“To us, and to sealing our fate with another kiss beneath the mistletoe.”
She ignored the first part and focused on the last. “We’re outside, Kyle. There’s no mistletoe.”
“Look up, darlin’.”
Angling her head, she saw the sprig of green leaves with the pearly white berries, tied with a red Christmas ribbon that he held in his hand over her head.
“Where did you get that?”
“Funny thing, it seems to have magically appeared in my pocket.”
Her gaze fell, taking in every detail like the way his hair ruffled across his forehead in the light wind, how his long dark lashes curled up on the ends, and his full lips tilted up into a smile.
“That sneak. She played us, got found out, and despite it, keeps right on doing so.”
“I think we have no choice except to give in and admit defeat, before it gets ugly.”
She stared up into his twinkling eyes, so much like Miss Emmaline’s primrose blue that she couldn’t believe she never made the connection.
“What do you say? You’re beneath the mistletoe, so you’ve got to decide. Is it deep romance or enduring friendship? And don’t even consider the third option or I’m turning you over my knee here and now.”
She saw a flicker of worry cross his face and knew how much her answer meant to him.
“You didn’t call me, like you promised.”
“I was ticked and hurt,” he admitted. “I needed a little time. I planned to come and see you tonight. Besides, I was digging out at work after being gone for a week. I haven’t been sitting back with my feet on my desk these past few days, believe me.”
She nodded. “I do.”
“You do? Truly?”
“Yes. And I should have called you and apologized, been the one to offer the olive branch following Saturday night. I need to work on owning up to being wrong and not holding a grudge.”
“I can help you with that,” he said with a teasing grin, and there was no mistaking the type of lessons he had in mind to fix her problem. His face angled up to the mistletoe sprig he still held over her head. “Don’t leave me hanging here, darlin’.”
She bit her lip. “So if the answer is friendship, you’ll accept that?”
“Hell, no. I’ll call my Nana and between the two of us, we’ll come up with a plan to win you over to our way of thinking. With both of us going full force on your stubbornness, you won’t know what hit you.”
Wide-eyed, she gazed up at him. “Marcy mentioned you were related to the Vanderbilts. They’re like royalty in these parts.”
His lips twisted in disgust. “She was always a social climbing namedropper.”
“So it’s not true?”
“Yes, though the connection is very distant, a third cousin twice removed. It’s nothing.” His grin broadened. “Besides, family legend tells that the relation was born on the wrong side of the sheets.”
“What?”
“The cousin was evidently a real bastard in more ways than one. So, we’re the black sheep branch of the family, the riff-raff, if you will. Does that make you feel better?”
“Heck, yeah,” she said with a grin. “I always knew you redneck Prescotts were nothing but trouble.”
He laughed, as did she, the sounds becoming muffled as he bent and kissed her tenderly. “Is it too soon to admit I’m falling in love with you, Dixie?”
“I’ve been in love with you since the ninth grade, Kyle, so my question is, what took you so long?”
The mistletoe was forgotten, falling to the ground at their feet, as he wrapped her up with both arms, crushed her to his chest, and claimed her mouth with a hungry passion.
When he raised his head, she wasn’t ready for him to stop and whimpered in protest.
“I’ve got to go back to work, but I’ll be over tonight at six. After dinner, we’ll pick up where we left off, and after that, work more on those lessons of trust and owning up to mistakes when you make them.”
“And not jumping to conclusions, or holding grudges so long, and definitely of letting go of the past.”
“That’s quite a list. My spanking hand might get sore. Better have your hairbrush at the ready.”
“What?”
“The last time was for beginners. Tonight, I won’t be going easy.” He recaptured her lips as he pressed more fully into her, the hard length of him prodding eagerly against her belly.
She didn’t fuss or protest what might be in store for her, by his hand or her brush, and especially not by the promise his body was making right now. She’d let it play out how it would, trusting him to take care of whatever she needed.
That thought made Dixie blink in surprise. She did trust him, explicitly.
He must have sensed that something had occurred because he eased back slightly. “What is it, baby?”
“I think I’ve had a revelation?”
“Is that so?” he replied, with a curious tilt to his head.
Her lips brushed his as they curved into a smile. “Yes, and I think you’ll be very pleased with the conclusion I’ve come to.”
His brow wrinkled in consternation, but she didn’t elaborate more. She’d prove her trust in him, just as she would her love, and did so right then as she stood on tiptoe and eagerly claimed another kiss.