Travis looked up at him and then back down. He nodded. "You're right."
"Damn right." Dustin turned and went to his room. Truth was, he was worried sick about Travis falling off the wagon. Maybe he was being unreasonable, but Travis was a major part of his life. Losing him to alcohol would be like losing him altogether. The thought terrified him. He went to bed but didn't fall asleep until he saw the light under Travis's door go out.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The big holiday event in Splitlog was Shannon Murphy's Christmas party which she held at Sweet Nothings every year a couple weeks before Christmas. It was a Friday and the afternoon before, Arden drove over to help bake and decorate. The café was still open so that there were a few patrons coming and going, but mostly it was quiet. People knew that Shannon would be working hard to pull off yet another magical feast with an old-world atmosphere.
School was out for the holiday, so Arden had spent that morning in her classroom taking down decorations and setting up her bulletin boards for January. She'd straightened up the tables and chairs and placed a small gift at each of her student's desks--stickers and pads of paper tied together with a ribbon and a welcome back note. The notes were personalized for each child. Arden admitted to herself that she was woefully ignorant about most of the citizens of Splitlog. But as far as the students went, she knew each of them very well and hoped they would always remember her as one of the positive influences in their lives.
After she finished in her classroom she drove over to the café where Shannon was busy in the kitchen baking and Emma and Alice were decorating. Arden usually stuck to the decorating since she had little to no interest in baking, but her time in the Raymer house during the snow storm had changed that. So she rolled up her sleeves and went into the kitchen.
Shannon stood at the large, butcher block table hand-kneading the dough for her famous cinnamon rolls. Her expression brightened at the sight of her friend. "Come on in!" she exclaimed. "There is so much work to do."
Arden smiled at her. "I need you to teach me how to make pie."
Shannon dug her palms into the dough and shook her head. "What kind of pie."
"Any kind. Every kind."
Shannon shook her head. "Why do you want to learn?"
Arden shrugged. "No reason. What can I do to help?"
Shannon put her to work decorating a four-tier Christmas cake she had assembled earlier. There wasn't room to be creative since Shannon had each tier drawn out on paper and insisted that Arden not veer from the plan, but Arden enjoyed the project nonetheless. Each tier would be decorated with red and green fondant draping around the top edges and gold piped beadwork on the sides. At the top of the cake was a bouquet of sugar paste poinsettias which Shannon had created in advance.
Arden sat on a stool and worked carefully, not wanting to mess anything up.
"Pie," Shannon mused out loud.
"It just sounds good. Everyone should know how to bake a pie," Arden said, hoping she would drop the subject.
"For Nick?"
Arden kept quiet.
"No, that couldn't be it," Shannon said, pretending to be talking to herself. "Nick doesn't like sweets. Hm, who do we know who likes pies?"
Arden glared at her as she grinned over her shoulder at her. "Stop it, Shannon."
Shannon's expression grew even more mischievous. "Travis will be here tonight. I'd stay away from the mistletoe if I were you. Or not. Whichever you want."
"I will be staying away from it, thank you very much."
Shannon chuckled.
Arden refocussed on the cake. When she was finished, she stood back and beamed with pride. Then she looked down at her watch and gasped. It was four o'clock and she was covered in flour, sugar and sweat. She helped Shannon clean up and then excused herself to go home, shower and get changed for the party.
Nick showed up at six o'clock to pick her up. Arden had been so preoccupied with arranging her dress and hair that she had momentarily forgotten the fact that she would be attending the party with her fiancé. She was standing in front of the mirror when she heard the front door open downstairs. She paused a moment until she realized it must be Nick. There was a slight, filmy layer of guilt when it occurred to her that the man on her mind while she was fixing her hair had been someone other than Nick.
She suppressed the feeling and gave herself one more overview in the mirror. Her hair was pulled back in a french twist with two curly tendrils left to hang on either side of her face. She wore a snug-fitting, red sweater with a calf-length black suede skirt along with her favorite black boots. Pleased with what she saw, she turned and ran downstairs to meet Nick.