Zoe looked forward to Donovan’s return but prayed he had a great weekend with his son. After having his assistance and company with the candy canes for a week, Zoe discovered she enjoyed his presence. Of course, it took not having him nearby all weekend for her to have this epiphany, but she’d come to a conclusion, nonetheless. What to do with that information was a different story.
Did she dare allow herself to have a friend? A tremble coursed through her. Even friendship meant being vulnerable. She’d had enough heartache to last a lifetime plus infinity. Dare she risk opening her heart?
Her heart? Where did that come from? As a friend, Zoe, as a friend. Don’t jump ahead of yourself.
Weren’t they already friends? In a week’s span, he’d learned more about her than any other person in Nativity had in the five years she’d lived here. She’d told him more than she’d even told Mrs. Jacobs. She trusted him, felt comfortable confiding in him, and it wasn’t one-sided. He’d entrusted her with information he claimed not to have told anyone, and he’d gain nothing from lying.
They brought each other coffee, and hot cocoa, and tea. She didn’t have any social media accounts to friend him on, but they exchanged text messages that increasingly had nothing to do with the candy canes.
That reminded her …
She pushed Snowball from her lap and went to the kitchen and unplugged her phone from the charger. Sent a text to Donovan and hoped she hadn’t overstepped her bounds. — Was at the mall this morning and saw the Freddy Turtle play set in stock. I asked if they’d hold it for you, but they wouldn’t since it’s the number one toy this season. I went ahead and bought it for you.
As she expected, no immediate reply came. He’d mentioned Mondays were meeting day at work, and he set his phone to silent during them. More evidence of their friendship. Though she knew the career fields of most people whom she interacted with at church, she didn’t know their employer, let alone anything about their schedules. Only Donovan’s.
While she was in the kitchen, she fed the cats and gave them fresh water. A black blur jumped down from the top of the refrigerator and pounced in front of her. Her heart skipped a beat until she realized it was Coal, who often hid up there when Snowball wanted to play, and he didn’t. With her extra fluff, Snowball hadn’t figured out how to get that high.
She cleaned her dishes from breakfast and lunch. A defying laugh escaped. Of all the changes in her life in recent years, they weren’t all bad. The old Zoe never would have left a dish in the sink, but the new Zoe understood life’s brevity. Nothing had been hurt, and the world wasn’t worse off for her leaving the dishes until after she’d run errands this morning. The release of perfection came with a high price tag, but she’d glean every lesson possible from the death of her family.
Her phone beeped when she was halfway done sweeping. She finished the chore before checking. Expecting a reply from Donovan, she smiled until she saw her mother’s number and message. — Happy Thanksgiving, Darling. We’re home from Austria and leave for Colombia next week.
She sucked in a long, angry breath. Some things never changed. Happy Thanksgiving? It was over a week ago. No “Can you come visit while we’re home,” or “We miss you.” Nothing. No sign of affection. She shouldn’t be surprised, but the truth stung regardless. After Tori’s death, her parents threw themselves further into work.
Oddly, their reaction told her they did care and needed an escape from the pain. At the same time, she wanted to throw respect to the wind and shake their arms and tell them she needed them to be parents. Just once, she could have used them as a shoulder to cry on, but that wasn’t their style. Hands off best described their method of parenting. For better or worse, they were the parents God gave her.
Swallowing all her pride and resentment, she typed a reply. — Happy Thanksgiving to you, as well. Safe travels and I love you.
She might get a reply. Might being an optimistic hope. When was the last time her parents had told her they loved her? After Aubrey’s funeral before they jetted out of the country. Before that? She couldn’t remember.
She’d made it a point to tell Aubrey every day of her short life that she loved her. Not a day passed she hadn’t told her those three words that could fill a heart. Knowing wasn’t enough. A person had to hear the words. Another hard-learned lesson from her parents.
When her phone beeped again, she considered not looking. If Mom had replied with another impersonal message, Zoe would throw her phone across the room. Figuratively speaking—maybe. Curiosity got the better of her, and she checked the screen, relieved to see Donovan had replied. — Thank you! I’ve searched everywhere in town and online to no avail. I’ll write you a check tonight. Brody will be a happy boy on Christmas thanks to you!
— No problem. She started to tell him not to bother with paying her back, then thought better of it. Even though she didn’t care about the money, it wouldn’t be appropriate, and Donovan would insist on repaying, anyway.
— Still on for tonight?
— Yes. Why don’t you come early for dinner? My way of saying thanks.
Had she really sent that? No, no, no! Her impulsive behavior was a thing of the past. Apparently not. She’d considered asking him to show her appreciation for his help but hadn’t decided yet if she could. At least she hadn’t thought she’d decided. There had been a miscommunication between her brain and fingers. She gave a resigned sigh. What’s done was done. He’d say yes or no, and they’d go from there.
— Sounds good. What time?
— Sevenish
— Might be closer to 7:15 if this meeting runs late, but I’ll be there. I’ll bring dessert.
—You don’t have to bring anything.
—The wife of our sales manager sent in goodies for everyone. I have six pecan tarts and a pumpkin roll. She owns the bakery off Sixth street, so they’ll be delicious, but goodness knows I don’t need to take them home and eat them all by myself.
Zoe chuckled. Donovan could afford a few treats without impacting his trim figure, and she wouldn’t turn away anything from the bakery. She had a fondness for their almond cake. And their pumpkin muffins. And the pecan tarts. All right, she loved everything she’d ever eaten from there. Fortunately, she’d inherited a great metabolism that allowed her to indulge without gaining weight—if she didn’t do it every day.
—Some of my favorites!
—I have to get to this next meeting. If anything changes, shoot me a text.
She filled her lungs with a long breath and exhaled. Does sharing dinner together constitute friendship? As much as it petrified her, she had to admit she’d formed a friendship with Donovan. Though scared, she found a measure of comfort. True friendships had been a rare commodity in her life, and she welcomed a new one.
Especially close to Christmas, and with someone who understood loss. As tragic as her loss had been, her husband, child, and sister hadn’t chosen to leave her. Donovan’s wife made a choice to leave him, and Zoe imagined that incurred a different level of pain. Life could be cruel, and she’d be forever grateful for her sustaining faith in God.
What could she make for dinner? She hadn’t cooked for anyone but herself in years, other than the occasional potluck dish for church socials and she wanted to offer him a better meal than cornbread pudding and mac and cheese. She always made kid-friendly recipes after seeing the lack of options for kids.
She knew Donovan wouldn’t complain about anything she made—his personality wouldn’t allow it—but he deserved a nice dinner for all his help. Damien had loved her shrimp scampi, but that seemed better suited for a romantic dinner.
Which this absolutely was not.
Chicken Marsala would work. She used to make it often, and could recall the recipe from heart—the one her parents’ chef had given her that substituted broth, grape juice, and sherry vinegar for marsala wine, and it tasted better than the real deal. Herb roasted potatoes, a side salad, and garlic bread would complete the meal. She made a list of ingredients and checked off what she already had in her kitchen. Except for the chicken and lettuce, she’d have to pick up everything else.
She should buy a few drinks as well. Other than coffee and hot cocoa, she didn’t know what he liked. If she picked up a few flavors of soda, brewed a pitcher of tea, and bought a jug of lemonade, that should cover most the bases. Whatever she didn’t use, she’d donate to the shelter.
Let’s get this done. The frigid air had been warmed by the sun, leaving the normal cold in its wake. Zoe threw her coat on but didn’t bother with gloves or a scarf. She drove to the grocery store, thinking about everything except tonight’s dinner. Thank goodness she had a list, or she’d forget what she needed with her mind juggling a cacophony of thoughts.
The crowd didn’t help matters. In all her life, she’d never seen a grocery store this busy at three-thirty on a Monday afternoon. Where did all the customers come from? It wasn’t as though tomorrow was Christmas or Christmas Eve.
Advent? But that began last week. Although the park held events every night leading up to Christmas, the big kickoff was on December first. Maybe there wasn’t any correlation between the crowds and an event, and everyone happened to go at the same time. Either way, she rushed through the aisles the best she could and claimed a spot in line. In the seasonal aisle, she added two boxes of candy canes to her cart. The shipment she’d ordered online had been unexpectedly delayed until Wednesday, and she didn’t want to run out tomorrow night.
The line inched forward. She silently estimated the number of items in each cart ahead of her. On any other day, she’d wait without caring, but tonight she had plans. For the first time in years, she’d entertain at her place, and the meal had to be perfect.
As she drove home, and then carried the bags up the stairs, qualms turned to excitement. The thrill of making dinner for a guest made a fresh appearance, and she’d forgotten how much she loved having people over. Why had it taken her five years to invite a guest over to share her table? She’d eaten at Mrs. Jacobs’ house a handful of times and had gone to dinner with the ladies from church on occasion, but no one had come to her apartment to eat.
She set the brown bags on the counter and nudged the cats down when they batted at them. Before she started food prep, she wiped down the counters with a disinfectant spray. Thanks, cats, for having no concept of boundaries. They peered up at her from the cold tile floor with pitiful looks that caused Zoe to laugh. “Yes, you two are cute, but that doesn’t give you free reign of any area that food touches.”
She went to the pantry and retrieved her apron from the hook behind the door. It was a kitschy garment that she’d won in last year’s Sunday school white elephant exchange, but the three-dimensional Christmas bows and ribbon sewn on the apron protected her clothes as she cooked.
Immersed in cooking, arranging the salad in a colorful, artful manner, and setting the table, she lost track of time. She’d just finished changing out the poinsettia centerpiece for a green glass vase with holly berries sticking out when the doorbell rang. She ran to answer it, shocked to see Donovan through the peephole. Eek. What time is it? Glancing up, she saw the time in the thermostat—7:08. How can it be this late already? She hadn’t had time to change her clothes or fix her hair, which surely looked a mess.
It’s not like I’m trying to impress him. With that reinstated confirmation, she unlocked the door and let him in.
His eyes twinkled. “Nice apron.”
Heat rocketed to her cheeks as she yanked the strings and tugged it off. “I forgot I had it on. It was a gag gift.”
“Oh.” His face fell. “My mom has one exactly like it. I bought it for her last year.”
Way to stick your foot in your mouth, Zoe. Great start to the evening. “It’s festive and helps to put me in a Christmassy mood.”
Donovan broke into laughter. “I’m teasing—you don’t have to look so horrified. Mom would swat me if I brought that home to her.”
“That was cruel.” She tossed him the apron. “Just for that, I’m giving it to you.”
His eyes shifted to where it had landed on top of the bakery boxes and grinned. “You really shouldn’t have.”
“You’re right. The punishment doesn’t fit the crime.” She eyed the boxes. “How about you hand over the desserts instead?”
“That’s restitution I don’t mind paying.” He draped the apron over a chair and transferred the boxes to her outstretched hands.
She lifted a lid and inhaled the scent of pumpkin, cinnamon, and cream cheese. “Can we skip straight to dessert?”
“We’re adults.” He wiggled his brows. “We get to make the rules.”
“Good point, but I worked too hard on dinner for it to get cold.” She smiled and closed the lid before she caved and cut a slice.
“Whatever’s cooking smells great. I followed my nose to your apartment.” He sniffed as if to make a point. “What did you make?”
“Chicken Marsala with roasted red potatoes and a salad.”
“I’ve never had chicken Marsala, but I can’t wait to try it.”
“What would you like to drink? Many people pair it with a Pinot Noir, but I don’t bring wine in the house or any alcohol.” The way she said it sounded self-righteous to her, and she hurried to explain herself. “After my family was killed by a drunk driver, I banned all alcohol. Maybe it’s a bit extreme, but it’s a reminder of what took my daughter, husband, and sister.”
“You don’t have to justify your decision, and for the record, I don’t drink. Alcoholism runs on my dad’s side of the family, so I’ve always kept my distance.” His smile put her at ease. “Do you have any iced tea?”
She nodded, pleased she could honor his request. “Freshly brewed an hour ago.”
“I’ll take a glass of that. What can I help with?”
“Everything is under control.” The apron on the chair caught her eye, and she pointed to the pantry. “You could hang the apron up in there for me if you don’t mind.”
A mischievous gleam shone in his eyes. “I thought it was mine now?”
“Then, by all means, take it. Be my guest.”
He smirked. “I am your guest.”
She erupted into laughter. Who knew a tacky apron could be an icebreaker. Any remnants of anxiety in her faded away, and she settled in to enjoy the evening.