The Trouble With Angels Page 0,101

as though he were afraid it was all a trick and something would soon explode in his face.

"Since we can't be married, let's make the best of being good parents to Karen," Maureen suggested. "And maybe someday you and I might even discover we can be civil to each other again."

"Not a bad idea. Can I go now?"

"Sure."

He placed his hand on the car door, then paused. "Did your attorney put you up to this?"

"My attorney?"

"Yeah. Did she tell you to bury the hatchet and let bygones be bygones?"

"No."

Karen rolled down the car window and folded her arms in the opening. "No, her new boyfriend did," she explained, leaning the upper half of her body out the window.

"Boyfriend? You mean to tell me you've got yourself a boyfriend? I'd say it's about time, Maureen. You should have let me know you were ready to date. I could have set you up with one of my friends."

Maureen smiled. "Thanks, Brian, I'll keep that in mind."

He opened the door, and Karen scrambled out of the way. "Bye, Mom!" she yelled, stretching over the backseat in order to wave.

Maureen returned the gesture. It hadn't been easy. She'd nearly choked on the apology. It wasn't forgiveness. Not even close to that. Forgiving Brian would take time and effort, but she'd taken the first ministep in that direction.

With a bounce in her gait, she returned to the house. It seemed bright and cheerful, even with a Christmas tree that was only half decorated.

A string of lights were wound from top to bottom, and Karen had gotten the first couple of boxes of ornaments on the lower branches, but the rest was up to her. She'd never let it go so long before, but it was a perfect task for Christmas Eve.

She had put on some Christmas music and brought out the rest of the decorations when the doorbell chimed. Tinsel was draped around her neck and a box of wrapping paper was tucked under her arm.

"Merry Christmas," Thom and Paula shouted simultaneously when she opened the door.

"You couldn't join us for Christmas Eve, so we came to you," Thom explained. He carried a serving dish, his hands buried deep inside thick pot holders. Paula had a large bowl.

"Chicken cordon bleu," Paula explained as they stepped into the house. "I gave Karen the recipe. And my special garden salad, minus tomatoes."

"Here, put it in the kitchen," Maureen instructed them, clearing a path.

"Oh, great, you haven't decorated your tree yet," Paula said after setting the salad on the table. "Can I help? I'm really good at this sort of thing." She didn't wait for Maureen to answer but raced back into the living room.

Thom set the hot dish down in the center of the table, and before he had a chance to remove the pot holders, she was in his arms. Standing on the tips of her toes, she kissed him, using her mouth and tongue in ways that made her regret they weren't alone.

Thom's arms were tight about her. His words were little more than a breathless murmur. "I'll cook your dinner every night if you promise to reward me like that."

Maureen smiled and raised her lips back to his. "You've got yourself a deal."

Paul straightened the trio of angel figurines that adorned his living-room window. Christmas Eve. He looked out into the darkness and felt a renewed sense of happiness. It was the season, yes, but more. He felt as though a heaviness had been lifted from his heart, from his life.

His hand held back the curtain, and a pair of headlights cut through the night in the distance. He suspected it was Bethany and Eric. They'd phoned to say they'd be over for Christmas Eve with some important news. Eric had been waiting better than a year for his promotion, and Paul guessed this was what they were about to celebrate.

He'd set the table himself and brought out Barbara's finest lace tablecloth and the china dishes. Three years of accumulated dust had made it necessary for him to wash them before he placed the delicate plates at the dinner table. He couldn't remember if he was supposed to run the fancy tableware through the dishwasher or not, so to be on the safe side he'd washed each one by hand.

The task reminded him of all the nights he'd dried dishes for Barbara. The happy times they'd shared as a couple had been many. Unfortunately he'd allowed his memories of her to be connected