Not whacko in a bad way of course. She loved them all. But did she really need to hear a speech every year about how she was all alone? Thanks, no.
"He gave me a big hug and called me Grandma right there in the doctor's office, isn't that the sweetest thing?"
Suck-up, she thought, but said only, "Yep. Jack's a keeper."
"Oh my yes, and I just cried and cried. I'm so emotional about my girls, you know."
Rachel's spoon scraped the bottom of the carton and she frowned. Darn it. Only a couple bites left. She should have been more prepared. She knew darn well that her mother called every Wednesday night without fail. She should have stocked extra ice cream.
"I know, Mom."
"And Rita's thinking of naming one of the babies after me, if one is a girl, that is."
Great. Just what the world needed. Another Celeste.
"That's nice." Rachel tucked the phone between her neck and her shoulder and shifted a look at the television screen. It's a Wonderful Life was playing. Of course it was. It had become almost more of a tradition than Midnight Mass.
While her mother talked, Rachel concentrated on George Bailey's trials and tribulations. As he stood at the top of the bridge looking into the icy river, Rachel completely understood why he was considering the leap.
"So, honey, anything new to tell me?"
Rachel froze, silently thanking God that her mother was safely tucked up in her house in Connecticut. If Celeste was looking right at her, she could use her motherly psychic powers and know exactly what her daughter had been up to.
That was one humiliation she didn't have to suffer through, anyway.
"Nope," she said after way too long a pause, "same ol', same ol' … "
"Uh-huh, that's nice, dear. Did I tell you that Margie Fontenot's grandson Will is coming to town for Christmas this year?"
Oh God. She knew what was coming. Another fix-up. Frantically Rachel scraped at the ice cream carton, hoping for more chocolate-which she now so desperately needed. "Really?"
"Oh, yes," her mother continued excitedly, "he's a doctor, you know."
Oh man, Celeste's Holy Grail.
Hook a doctor for poor Rachel.
"That's nice," she said ambiguously, scrambling off the couch, clutching the empty ice-cream carton and spoon. Hustling into the kitchen, she tossed the carton into the trash, the spoon into the sink, then turned to the pantry. While her mother oohed and aahed over Margie's fabulous grandson, Rachel scrounged for cookies. Preferably chocolate cookies.
She settled for a stale Pop-Tart.
Taking a bite, she leaned against the counter and closed her eyes. Only have to hang on a few more minutes, she assured herself. Celeste's calls never went longer than ten minutes. Long distance charges, donchaknow.
"Anyway, honey," her mother said, then muttered, "oh Frank, go watch TV. Rachel knows I'm only trying to help." When she came back again, she said, "Your daddy says hello, honey."
Rachel smiled in spite of everything. God bless her father. Always trying to reel his wife in when her latest matchmaking attempt kicked in. "Hi back."
"She says hello. Yes," Celeste added, emphasizing the word with impatience, "I'll tell her to check her door locks."
Rachel grinned and chewed a rock-hard, cold toaster pastry. Her mom was only interested in romance or the promise of one. Her father, on the other hand, installed a new lock on Rachel's door every time they came to the city. Pretty soon she was going to have to buy an extra door to accommodate them all.
"Check your locks."
"Already done."
"Thank heaven." Celeste lowered her booming voice and Rachel knew it was because she was trying to avoid having her husband overhear. "Anyway, honey, we're giving a little party the weekend before Christmas this year. Nothing special.
Just a few friends."
"Like Margie?" Rachel guessed, barely containing the helpless snarl as she tore off another chunk of dry Pop-Tart.
"Of course, honey, you know how fond I am of Margie," her mother went on, picking up speed as she finally reached her destination. "And of course, since Will is here in town visiting, he'll be attending, too. Won't that be nice? I just know you two will have so much in common."
Rachel sighed. "Where's he live?"
"Phoenix, I believe."
Well sure, Rachel thought. She lived in Manhattan and worked at a magazine. Will was a doctor living in Phoenix. So much in common it was uncanny. Almost eerie.
Must be Kismet.
God, the pity just kept on coming. It was her own fault, though. If she hadn't spent so much time thinking about Shane, maybe she could have met someone else by now. Someone she actually might have a future with. She took another bite.
"Mom … "
"Now, don't you get your back up, young lady," her mother said, clearly hoping to disarm Rachel before she could get a head of steam going. "It's Christmas.
It's a time for having friends and family together and we're going to be together. Understood?"
Rachel's chin hit her chest.
If she were George Bailey at this moment, she'd be jumping off that bridge. And if stupid Clarence saved her sorry butt, she'd just have to kill him.
But as much as she might like to refuse her mother's invitation, they both knew she wouldn't. She'd never missed Christmas with her family and she wasn't going to start now. "Understood, Mom. I'll be there."
"That's my girl," Celeste cooed again, gracious in victory. "So, would you like me to e-mail you a picture of the twins in utero?"
"Sure," she said. "Why not?"
After all, once those twins were born, they were going to take a lot of heat off of Rachel.
"I'll do that right away, honey. But first I have to call your sister and make sure she's all right."
"But you just saw her this morning." Rachel frowned at the magnetized grocery list stuck to the refrigerator. Picking up a pen, she scrawled CHOCOLATE in capital letters and underlined it half a dozen times just for emphasis.
"Pregnant women need taking care of," her mother assured her.
"Okey dokey, then," Rachel said with a sigh. "Say hi to Rita for me."
"I will. Now good night, honey, and your dad just said for you to check your locks again. We love you!"
With those final words ringing in her ear, Rachel heard her mother hang up and then listened aimlessly to the dial tone humming frenetically. She loved her mother, but after one of these phone calls, Rachel always felt a little disappointed in her own life.
Or rather, her lack of a life.
Christmas time and the only romance in her future was a setup fixed by her mother.
Stabbing the power button, she turned the phone off and carried it and what was left of her stale treat into the living room. Once there, she curled up on the couch again and turned up the volume on the movie.
And if a few tears escaped and rolled silently down her cheeks, who but she would know about it?
Shane stood outside Rachel's apartment door and asked himself again what the hell he was doing there. He should have just gone home after leaving Gannon in the bar. But instead, he'd found himself heading for Rachel's.
Which said exactly what?
That he was still uncomfortable with the way they'd left things at the office? That he still felt like a sleazy boss for having sex with his assistant? That he simply wanted to see her again?
Yes, to all of the above.
It wasn't a good idea, though, and he knew it.
And even as that thought shot through his brain, he lifted his hand and knocked on her door.
"Shane?" Her voice was muffled. "What're you doing here?"
He glanced up and down the hallway, then directly into the peephole he knew she was watching him through. "I wanted to talk to you, Rachel."
"About what?"
He didn't hear any locks turning and she sure wasn't opening the door.
"Do you think I could come inside?"
"Why?"
He blew out a breath, leaned into the peephole and said, "Because I don't want to have this conversation in the hallway."
"Fine."
At last, he heard the distinctive sounds of a chain being dragged off and several dead bolts clacking. When she opened the door, he stepped inside before she could change her mind.
"What do you want, Shane?"
He glanced quickly around the room, took a sniff of Christmas-scented air, then turned his gaze on her. Her blond hair was loose, waving over her shoulders. She wore a white cut-off T-shirt and pale green sweatpants that hung low on her hips, baring several inches of flat, toned belly. She was barefoot and her toes were painted a dark, sexy red.