Chapter 1

"Hi, Mom!"

"Jeff, hi!" I'd been standing in Macy's ladies' department, idly fingering cashmere sweaters and frilly blouses I neither needed nor wanted. Now I hurried out of the store into the main mall and found an empty bench so I could talk undisturbed. Christmas shoppers bustled all around me, seeming almost driven by the relentlessly cheery music wafting from on high. "How are things?"

I could almost see my son's good-natured grin. "Good. Things are going good. I've turned in my final paper for English, and I'm nearly ready for my Chem tests tomorrow and Thursday. Latin might be a different story." Jeff, a junior, was majoring in Chemical Engineering at a university halfway across the country. He'd been swamped with coursework and had elected to stay put and study over Thanksgiving break, and I was really looking forward to having him home for the holidays.

"You'll be fine," I assured him in my best Understanding Mom voice. Jeff always worried about his grades, and never failed to do well.

He laughed. "Yeah, probably. Um, Mom?"

"Yeah, hon?"

"I was wondering ... I mean, um, that is..." My heart sank lower with every word. Whatever Jeff was this reluctant to say couldn't be good. "Caitlyn's parents have invited me to spend Christmas break with them. If it's all right with you, of course."

"How nice of them," I said with a cheer I didn't feel. It most certainly was not all right with me--I'd really been looking forward to spending time together--but Jeff and Caitlyn had been dating since midway through their freshman year, the relationship growing progressively more serious. "If it's all right with them, it's all right with me." I'd used the same phrase countless times during his childhood, and it was oddly comforting to invoke it now.

Jeff's voice grew lower, more serious. "I just want to make sure you're going to be all right. I know this is your first Christmas without Dad, and I feel like I should be there."

The fact that he'd thought about that made me smile. Clearly, Jerry and I had done something right. "I'll be fine, Sweetie. I've got plenty of friends to call on--" friends with plans of their own, but no need to mention that– "and Jenny and David are driving up Christmas day." At least I could count on seeing my daughter and her husband, however briefly. "I'll miss you, but I'll be fine."

"Okay." I had to smile at the relief that tinged his voice. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

We chatted for a few more minutes, then said our good-byes and hung up. As I stowed my phone in my purse, I glanced around. The lights, the glitter, the tinsel, the carols were suddenly overwhelming, almost oppressive. I fished out my keys and headed for the exit, dropping a few coins in the familiar red kettle on its tripod on my way by.

Jenny called later that night as I struggled through the front door, weighed down by groceries.

"Hi, honey!" I thrust one of the bags into the fridge, crammed another into the freezer, and set the remainder on the counter. "How's the big project?"

She sighed. "Actually, that's what I was calling about. I am completely buried, and this thing has a year-end deadline. And there's rough weather predicted for the 25th. If we drive up and get snowed in, I'm not sure how we'll finish." I could envision her cocking her head, her eyes wide and pleading. "Can we possibly take a raincheck? New Year's, maybe?"

I glanced at the gaily decorated tree, resplendent in its usual corner, and stifled a sigh of my own. "Of course, honey, if that's what you need to do."

She brightened. "Thanks, Mom! I knew you'd understand. Besides, you'll still have Jeff there, right?"

"Mmm," I murmured as noncommittally as possible. If she thought I'd be alone, she'd make a point of coming up, and she was right--they couldn't afford the time, particularly not with bad weather on the horizon. "You and Dave have a Merry Christmas for me, okay?"

"Love you, Mom!" There was a brief pause. "Whoops, gotta run." The line went dead.

I put away my phone, considered the groceries I'd stowed away, and pulled out the phone again. Szechwan Charlie's delivered, and they made a killer sesame chicken combo.

An hour later, as I chased the last pieces of chicken around the bottom of the container, my phone rang again. "Margay," The caller ID read. I grinned and picked up. "Hey, girlfriend! I was just thinking about you!"

"Hiya, Lynne." Her voice was strained and nasal, as if she'd been crying. "I'm afraid I've got some bad news."

I set the container down and sat up straighter, concerned. "What's up?"

Margay sniffled. "It's my mother. She slipped on her front steps this morning and fractured her arm. The doctors say she's going to be fine, but someone's going to need to stay at her place and take care of her and the cats. So it looks as though I'm going to have to cancel on you." Margay and I had a standing tradition of going out on Christmas Eve, doing some last minute shopping and treating ourselves to lunch at one of our favorite bistros. "Andy's packing the car now. I'm so sorry, darn it!"

"Don't you dare be," I scolded. "I'm just glad your mom's all right. You take good care of her and good care of Andy and try to have a great Christmas in spite of it all." Despite my words, I felt a small pang of abandonment, and a sharper pang of guilt for feeling it. "I will be just fine."

I repeated it quietly to myself, as if the words could make it so. I will be just fine.

Jeff called again just after nine o'clock. "Mom, I need a favor," he said without preamble. "It's not for me, it's for this guy in one of my classes. Mike."

I blinked. I wasn't in the mood to do favors, but I could at least hear him out. "Go on."

"He's got to fly in to the city for an interview on the 21st. He can get a better fare if he stays a couple of days and leaves on the 26th. But he doesn't know anyone in the city, and getting a hotel would eat up everything he'd save." Jeff took a deep breath. "Since I'm not going to be there, can he crash in my room?"

I'd nearly resigned myself to the fact of spending Christmas alone. Spending it with an unfamiliar houseguest, however, was really pushing it.

And yet ... I'd always stressed the importance of helping friends. Maybe it would even stop me brooding.

"It would be a shame for him to spend Christmas alone in a strange city," Jeff wheedled.

"All right," I said at last, slowly. "But you owe me bigtime, kiddo."

Jeff laughed. "It's all right, Mom. You can thank me later."

I'd taken the week off, so I was able to pick Mike up at the airport.

I scanned the disembarking passengers as they filed into the terminal, wishing I knew who I was looking for. Jeff's description of dark hair, medium build didn't give me much to go on. Most passengers either rushed to greet waiting friends and family or strode briskly in the direction of the baggage claim. As the crowd dispersed, I looked around anxiously. Had Mike missed his flight? Should I call?

"Mrs White?"

I jumped, startled. The man approaching me did indeed have dark hair and a medium build, but where I'd been looking for a college boy around Jeff's age, this man had to be in his late twenties, possibly as old as thirty. He also had, I noted, a dazzling smile that lit up his bright blue eyes.

He held out his hand and I shook it. "Lynne," I corrected automatically. "Mike?" I asked, as if he could possibly be anyone else.

"Yes, ma'am." He was clean-shaven, I noticed, comfortably dressed in a green polo shirt and tan slacks. Suddenly my own scruffy turtleneck and jeans seemed incredibly inadequate. They were fine for picking up a stray college boy my son had invited home, but meeting this classically handsome man seemed to call for something more upscale. He released my hand and stepped back. "I'm sorry I didn't come over right away. I was expecting someone old." A flush stained his cheeks, doing nothing to mar his good looks. "I'm sorry, I think that came out wrong."

I laughed. "Not at all. I was expecting someone younger. Jeff's age," I clarified quickly.

He picked up his carry-on and we strolled toward the baggage claim. "Well, I came to college in a sort of roundabout way. Went into the Navy right out of high school and served for eight years before I decided my future lay in the civilian world. I'm studying engineering on the GI bill."

"How's it going?"

There was hardly any baggage left on the carousel. Mike swooped to pick up a small brown suitcase. "Pretty well, actually. I've been able to keep up a 3.85 GPA, and if this interview goes well, I'll have a position to step into when I finish up in the spring." He shrugged. "If not, there are a few other possibilities. He flashed me that grin again. "Thanks again for letting me stay. I didn't want to impose, but once Jeff got the idea in his head..."

I had to laugh. "That's Jeff, all right. He can be very persuasive." I led him toward the parking lot shuttle. "I'm glad to be able to do it." This, I realized as he stepped back to let me board first, was turning out to be truer than I'd expected.

Mike had eaten on the plane and I wasn't hungry, so I drove straight home. He let out a low whistle when we stepped into the living room.

"This is really nice."

I looked around, trying to take in the room with new eyes. The living room was large for a city apartment, with sliding glass doors that led to a balcony with a view of the city skyline. Jerry and I had furnished it in black leather and polished chrome, with a glass-topped coffee table that matched the one in the dinette. I'd plugged in the Christmas tree before I left, and its lights twinkled merrily even in the bright afternoon light. The presents beneath made me feel forlorn. Maybe I'd round them up and put them out of the way later.

Thanks," I told Mike. "Let me show you to your room."

I gave him a brief tour and left him in Jeff's room to settle in. That done, I puttered around the house at loose ends. I'd planned to spend the week cooking and baking, lounging around reading email and catching up on my favorite TV shows, slipping comfortably into the familiar role of mom. It was a role I cherished, one I'd become good at over the years.

But Mike wasn't the type to need or want much in the way of mothering. And as I thought of Mike's blue eyes, the strong line of his jaw, the play of muscles under his shirt and the easy, confident way he carried himself, I realized it wasn't motherly affection I wanted to show him.