The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,76
feel his gaze fixed on the right side of her face. If his look grew any more intense, he might laser her ear off.
“That’ll be six dollars and forty-eight cents,” Mr. Vanderpool said.
Maria grabbed a bill from her wallet and fished around for the correct change in the zippered pocket. All the while, James Delevan just stood there. Didn’t the man have some emergency ingredient he needed to look for? No doubt Evan’s sister was whipping up a gourmet meal right out of Food & Wine, although she was out of luck in Sweetgum if she needed something fancy like truffle oil or endive.
At last, purchase completed, she was forced to face him.
“Hello, Maria.” He looked so grave that she wondered if someone had died. Mr. Vanderpool wandered off, leaving the two of them alone.
“Merry Christmas.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Yes. Merry Christmas.”
“So you’re back in Sweetgum.” The brilliance of her conversation was second to none. What was it about this man that reduced her to bumbling idiot status?
“Yes.”
“Spending the holiday with Evan?”
To her surprise, James shook his head. “I’m on my own.”
If he wasn’t staying with Evan, why would he come back? “Where are you staying?”
“Sugar Hill.”
Again, Maria was surprised. “I thought the Parsons closed it for the holiday so they could go to their daughter’s house in Louisville.”
“They have. Gone to their daughter’s, I mean. But they were kind enough to allow me the run of the place.”
“But…” She didn’t know what to add after that but. “You’re celebrating Christmas alone?”
“I don’t think celebrate is the right word. Let’s just say I’m riding it out solo.”
She noticed a funny look in his eyes, haunted almost. Riding it out solo. Maria thought she’d never heard anything sadder in her life. Her own family was thoroughly dysfunctional—her mother drove her crazy, she despaired of Daphne ever being fully appreciated by a worthy man, and Stephanie couldn’t be depended upon for anything other than converting oxygen to carbon dioxide—but at least they were together. At least they were a family, even if a rather warped one.
“You can’t do that.”
He lifted that eyebrow again, the one that went a mile high. He was almost as good at it as her mother. “I can’t?”
“I mean, you shouldn’t have to. No one wants to be alone on Christmas. Surely, someone asked you—” She stopped herself What if she was wrong? What if no one had invited him to be a part of their holiday meal? She couldn’t conceive how that might possibly happen to a man like James Delevan, but then again…
“My half sister’s my only family,” he said, looking grim. “She’s skiing in Aspen with friends from boarding school.”
“Boarding school?” Aspen? He really was rich.
“She’s a junior. Seventeen.” He smiled sadly, and Maria could tell he was fond of his sister, half or not, which made her feel even sorrier for him.
“And your parents?”
“They passed away a number of years ago.”
“Oh.”
A hollow silence fell. Maria swallowed and took a deep breath, knowing she had to follow the dictates of her upbringing in that moment, even though every shred of common sense told her to keep her mouth closed.
“Since you’re on your own…” Don’t do it, don’t do it, a little voice chanted inside her head. “Since you’re on your own, why don’t you come have Christmas dinner with my family?”
His eyes widened, and for a moment he looked as if he’d been poleaxed. “With your family?”
“You’re right. That’s a stupid idea.” Maria shifted the small paper bag in her arms. “I’d better run.” She started to do just that, but his voice stopped her.
“I’d like that.”
“You’d like for me to run?”
He smiled then. Grinned, really. She’d never seen that expression on his face, and it transformed him. Instead of dour, he looked relaxed and approachable.
“No. Well, I don’t have an opinion on the running thing one way or the other, but if you meant it, I’d like to spend Christmas with you.”
“Oh.” She plastered a smile on her face that she hoped equaled his. “Okay. Follow me.”
They exited the grocery store and stepped across the street to her door. As they climbed the steep flight of stairs, she half wished they would open up and swallow her. Their living quarters were a mess, and there was no telling what kind of reception he would receive from her mother or Stephanie, if she was even awake yet. At least Daphne would make him feel like a welcome guest.