Christmas Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses(11)

She noticed Max watching Gramps again. Gramps’s eyes were wide, entertained, happy.

“You need to thank him for the pies,” her mom said.

“Should I call him on Thanksgiving?”

“Why not? He called you.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She didn’t want to call Nick Sinclair all of a sudden. The mere thought of it sent another wave of anxiety through her. She tried to place why she was having that reaction just now, and the only conclusion was too alarming to think about, but it kept rising to the surface: she found him interesting. He was gorgeous, rich, and now thoughtful. She caught herself wondering about him. Suddenly, she couldn’t eat another bite.

“It’s just us here, Abbey. Don’t feel like you have to be polite. Why don’t you call him? We’ll finish eating, and I can get some pie for Max.”

Abbey nodded and excused herself from the table. She tried not to look at Gramps’s giddy face as she dug around in her handbag. As she held her phone, her mind wasn’t on the people at the table anymore. She’d see Nick tomorrow, and she could thank him then, but now her family was full of anticipation, excited for her, and she felt like she should go ahead and call. She went into her old bedroom and shut the door.

The springs on the mattress squeaked out their age as she sat down on her childhood bed. She’d redecorated the room for her mother, turning it into a guest room a few years ago. She pulled up her call history and, after a moment of hesitation, she tapped his number. The phone started to ring. Abbey fixed her eyes on the wall, trying to calm her beating heart. Why was she getting so nervous? Her palms were getting sweaty, a tingling sensation moving around in her limbs.

“Nick Sinclair,” he answered.

“Hello, Nick.”

“Abbey?”

“Yes. It’s Abbey. I was just calling to thank you for the pies.”

“Ah, good. I’m glad you received them. All I had to go on was your description of your mother’s house: the corner of Maple and Ivy.”

“How did you remember?” She lay down on her back, her blonde curly hair fanning out along the hunter green and cream color-coordinated comforter.

His slight amusement came through the phone in a short, quiet breath. “I hardly ever forget a detail. I can recall almost everything.”

“Really? I’d love to remember everything,” she said, but before she’d even finished saying the words, she regretted them. She wouldn’t want to remember the sting of hurt when Vince, Max’s dad, had left them, or the intense worry she’d had at a young age when she’d found out she was pregnant, and she hadn’t made a life suitable for raising a child yet. She didn’t want to recall with perfect clarity the conversation she’d had with her mother about her alcoholic father who wasn’t allowed near her. Those emotions were now diluted with all kinds of other emotions that had happened over the years.

“Am I interrupting your Thanksgiving?” she asked suddenly.

He laughed quietly again. “No.”

“Are you doing anything with Caroline today?” She knew it was a bold question since they’d just met. It wasn’t to pry; she only asked out of concern for the both of them.

“I’m working, so no. And she hates turkey,” he said, and Abbey could almost feel the smile in his words. “She refuses to eat Thanksgiving dinner, so it hasn’t been a big holiday for us in a long time.”

He’d said, “a long time,” which meant that there was a time when he did celebrate Thanksgiving. Had he sat around that enormous dining room table of his, the chairs full of family members, passing dishes from one to the other, telling stories and enjoying each other?

“So, you used to celebrate Thanksgiving?” she asked. “Why don’t you celebrate it anymore?”

The line was silent for so long that she pulled the phone back to view the screen to check that she was still connected. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, Nick said, “I just don’t.”

“I never knew Caroline didn’t like turkey. She’s funny,” Abbey said, trying to lighten the mood after his last comment. It was clear he wasn’t planning to share the details of his life with her, and she couldn’t blame him. “It’s a tough job, taking care of an elderly family member,” she ventured.

“Yes.”

“My mother and I take care of my gramps.”

“Perhaps that’s why you’re so good with my grandmother,” he said. “Your grandfather is lucky to have you to care for him.”

“Well, he’s always been there for me. I haven’t seen my dad since I was four, and Gramps filled in when he wasn’t there.”