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Evelyn Sweet dropped her shopping bags on the couch and followed them. She eased low-heeled pumps off her feet and tried to rub the soreness away. The shopping mall had been a madhouse with the usual rush of people doing last-minute Christmas shopping. She’d always done her Christmas shopping early to avoid dealing with the crowds. But there had been a flurry of hints from her daughter and younger sisters about stuff they’d wanted and had to have. She was scared to see what her credit card statements would look like. A twinge of anxiety struck her about her bills.

She’d got the week of Christmas off work for the first time in her fifteen years of tenure as a registered nurse at the hospital. Instead of looking forward to the holidays, she was starting to dread the endless cooking and preparations. These sort of thoughts nagging on the tired edges of her mind were unwelcome. Anxieties and a sense of dissatisfaction. Nope, thoughts of gratitude for her blessings, giving, and generosity were the sort of things she tried to fill her mind. She had health and the love of her family and friends. What blessings could be greater than that?

Evelyn moistened her lips. Suddenly, they felt like they’d been touched. Something like tender kisses. A masculine, musky scent wafted around her own longing. Evelyn frowned and stood. What was wrong with her lately? It was almost five o’clock. She had to get dinner started.

Cars always surrounded Evelyn’s neat, but nondescript vinyl sided white ranch
around dinnertime in her working and middle class neighborhood. Dinner was a
drop-in affair and well attended–her sisters and their kids would be there. Her
sisters might bring their men of the moment. Friends from work might drop by, or
folks from church.

Evelyn cooked and catered and cleaned up after them as well as she could. Folks
seemed to think her cooking was pretty good because her table was always full of
people and she loved it. Didn’t she?

She put the bags in the closet and went into the kitchen. Her kitchen was the heart
of her home and she loved it. It was straight from the fifties with big white old
fashioned appliances and white enameled medal cabinets with red tyrim and a big
kitchen table to match. Her one extravagance was the black granite counter tops she
had installed. She spent a lot of time in this kitchen and it suited her.

Evelyn had decided to cook smothered pork chops for tonight’s dinner. She got the
extra-large family-size pack out and reached in the cabinet for the seasonings.
Suddenly Evelyn cocked her head and listened intently. She heard singing. Smooth
and soulful, like gospel music. Did she leave a radio on somewhere?

“There you go cooking on the white folks’ part of the hog again.”

Evelyn spun, her heart freezing. “Who’s there?”

No answer.

She started to take a step forward and stopped, biting her lips nervously. There had
to be an explanation. Of course there was. She cocked her head and listened. The
homey and familiar hum of the refrigerator and the tick of the wall clock were the
only sounds she heard. She was tired. That had to be it.

Evelyn bent over and put the big frying pan on the stove. Her eyes moistened. It was
December 17. The anniversary of Sweet Mama’s death was a week away. The grief
had faded to a dull ache, but with her fatigue and the memory of her loss last
Christmas . . . No wonder she heard her great aunt’s voice, the woman who raised
her and her sisters with a firm but loving hand.

The white folks’ part of the hog. Sweet Mama liked the pork chops, the ham and the
bacon, but she loved the parts of the pig reserved for the black folks way back when.
Smoky ribs and crispy fried pigskin. Pig’s feet and chitlins. That’s good eating, child,
she would say. We took the scraps and turned them into gourmet cuisine. That’s how
we black folks do it.

“Evelyn? You in the kitchen?”

“Yes, I’m back here, Deb.”

Her youngest sister glided in sniffing. “You scared me for a moment. I didn’t smell
any food.”

“I just haven’t got it in the pan yet. I know you all would riot if I didn’t cook.”

Deb was beautiful, trim and small with smooth skin that looked like honey and long
black relaxed hair hanging over her shoulders and down her back. Deb favored her
other two younger sisters and her mother’s sister, Aunt Jean. Not for the first time
did Evelyn wonder why she’d gotten such a different set of numbers in the gene
lottery, with her stocky body, dark skin and short, kinky hair.

Her mother and grandmother had drowned together in a flash flood so long ago that
Evelyn’s memories of being clasped to a full, soft chest by strong arms were all that
remained of them besides a few photos. If it weren’t for her looking so much like
Sweet Mama and the old photos of her mother, she would have thought there had
been some mistake.

Fair or dark, plain or pretty, the family legacy is always the same, Sweet Mama
would say. Evelyn had frowned because that usually was a prelude to Sweet Mama
going on and on about the importance of choices and dirty-doggish men. But
everyone in Mystic Ridge knew that Evelyn’s choices had already been the wrong
ones.

“Pork chops? What are you cooking with them?” Deb asked.

“I’m making smothered pork chops, rice and gravy, sweet peas, yellow pound cake.
Speaking of peas, they’re in the refrigerator. You can snap them for me and put
them on to boil with a pinch of sugar and lots of butter.”

Deb heaved a sigh and went to the refrigerator. “Sometimes I wonder why I show up
early and don’t have the sense to wait for the food to be on the table like everybody
else.”

Evelyn shrugged and unaccustomed resentment touched her. She was forever
cooking and tending to other folks. What would it be like to come home to a good
meal for a change? She banished the thought.

“Let me tell you why I rushed over,” Deb continued. “I had to tell you the news. You
aren’t going to believe it. David’s back in town.”

“David?” Evelyn put a questioning tone to the name, but she knew who he was. Her
heart thudded as she remembered the handsome young man who every single girl in
the town, black or white, wanted to call her own. They’d gone to school together,
first through twelfth grade. Not only was he the best-looking, most athletic young
man with the highest test scores and grades, he was also one of the nicest boys
she’d ever met. David Douglas had been born under a lucky star.

“I know you remember David. That man was so fine, when he left, the echo of
breaking hearts around this town about broke the sound barrier.”

“He went into the Foreign Service after college, right? What makes him decide to
finally bring his family back to Mystic Ridge after all these years?”

“This is the good part, sis. He was in a car accident in Germany, serious injuries, and
his second wife booked on him.”

“That’s the good part?”

“The man is unattached, broken-hearted and has been injured. He comes back to his
hometown to heal and nurse his wounds. What could be better? He’s ripe for the
picking. The man is mine, do you hear me?”

Evelyn shot a sharp glance at her sister and shook her head. “The poor man,” she
murmured under her breath. “You were a kid when he left. What do you know about
David?”

“I remember David quite well. And I’m not a kid anymore.”

Evelyn started to open her mouth to reply when her daughter Ashley bounded in, all
long legs and coltish energy. “Hi Mom.”

Ashley glanced over at Deb. “What’s going on, Aunt Deb?”

“We were talking about David,” Deb replied.

“Who isn’t? It’s so romantic. Wounded hero returning home . . .”

“As far as I know Germany isn’t a war zone anymore, and the Foreign Service hardly
qualifies as military duty,” Evelyn said dryly.

“Mom, you know what I mean.”

Evelyn eyed her daughter, hardly believing that this tall beauty sprang from her
loins. Ashley was home from the University of Maryland for Christmas break. She
was staying in her own apartment and just dropping in occasionally. Evelyn barely
got to see her. The apron strings were fraying. She’d be ready to graduate next year
and she was already talking about heading off to the west coast for grad school.

Ashley was both the best and worst thing she’d ever done her entire life. She’d been
a child having a child when she gave birth to her at fourteen. She could scarcely
believe what was happening to her and to her body. When she brought forth this
little wailing creature, she’d stared at it in disbelief.

“You’ve set a course for your life, child. You gave away your youth and you’re a
woman now,” Sweet Mama had said.

And that was the way it had been. From that moment on, she’d been a mother to
her child and her three younger sisters. She’d never looked back.

Her heart ached at the thought of her baby grown up and gone. Time had gone by so
quickly. She was only thirty-five and she felt like a much older woman who’d never
had the fiery juices of young womanhood fill her.

An hour and a half later, dinner was on the table. Folks were talking all at once and
enjoying their food thoroughly. Evelyn hurried between the kitchen and the table, as
was her habit, refilling glasses and serving platters, bringing out dessert.

Joyce said, “I asked David to dinner over here tomorrow.”

“Why?” The word from Deb was a sharp rap.

“I thought it would be a nice gesture.”

“A nice gesture towards what?” Deb bit into a roll. “Don’t get any ideas, now. That
man has my name on him.”

“I think it is a very good idea to be welcoming toward David,” Beverly interrupted.
“The man has been through so much.”

“And Deb here is itching to put him through more drama,” Joyce said.

“You got that right,” Deb replied.

Evelyn went in the kitchen and closed the door behind her, shutting off the
exchange. Her sisters kept a friendly rivalry going on between them over men. It had
always been like that since they were teenagers, but they’d never seriously stepped
on each other’s toes. Beverly had been out of the loop with her marriage, then the
bitter divorce such a short while later. Evelyn was happy to see her rejoin the
banter. Apparently nobody ever considered that Evelyn could be interested in a man
or that any man could be interested in her.

Although Deb’s words had been joking, she’d obviously decided that David would be
one of the very few men around Mystic Ridge worthy of her. Joyce saw a catch too.
Plenty of women would be after David Douglas–that was for sure. It should be
interesting around Mystic Ridge with him back, and the Lord knew this town needed
all the excitement it could get.

#

That night Evelyn woke suddenly to the whistling of the wind and cold so frigid her
breath made white, ghostly puffs in the darkness of her bedroom.

She shivered and got out of the bed, drawing the blanket tightly around her. She
slipped on her house shoes and made her way to the thermostat.

The heater kicked on immediately and she moved back to her bedroom to burrow
under the warmth of the covers.

She stopped. Was that a voice she’d heard?

“Sweet Mama?” Her voice quavered and hung in the cold dark air.

Evelyn stifled the urge to turn on every light in the house and get back into bed.
Remnants of a dream? A whisper from the grave? The hairs stood up on the back of
Evelyn’s neck. She sat up in the bed and reached out for the lamp. The yellow light
from the lamp warmed her and she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her
arms around them. The voice of Sweet Mama should be nothing to fear. If only she
could hear her voice again, one more time. If only.

She picked up her watch by the bed stand. 12:03 and the date was December 18.
Exactly one week before Sweet Mama died the year before on Christmas Eve. It had
ruined Christmas for everybody, but Sweet Mama never put much stock in the
holiday anyway although she claimed to love the time of the year. Fool
commercialization, she’d murmur. Santa Claus and trinkets and spending too much
money. Old gods own that time and don’t you forget it.

“The longest, darkest night of the year.”

Evelyn’s head snapped up. “Sweet Mama?” she whispered. There was a hint of
pleading in her voice. She needed her now. Sweet Mama was the only one who’d
cared for her in the way Evelyn gave and gave to others. Sweet Mama would cook
the things she liked, rub her back and tell her to keep on putting one foot in front of
the other when it seemed as if the world was against her. She missed her so much,
and the year’s passing had hardly dented the rock of her grief.

Evelyn cocked her head and listened hard. Was there the thrum of drumbeats,
women’s voices raised in joyous song, or was it the hum of the heater? Was she
losing her mind?

She buried her face in her hands. Evelyn had thought this Christmas would be
easier–a time of healing and renewal after the sad Christmas of last year. She’d

wanted to make this Christmas special. But she was exhausted and broke and
getting broker. Everything was falling on her as usual.

Her home was the hub of the family. She poured the money, time and energy to
keep the traditions and family spirit alive, and her home was where they all
gathered. Four sisters, their men all gone or lost, and their children. They all lived in
Mystic Ridge, tied there by reasons of circumstance and habit. A family of women
was what they’d always been and family was all Evelyn had. All that was supposed to
matter. Why the hole in her heart?

“Sweet Mama?” She needed her so much.

She turned off the light and lay back and closed her eyes. She felt sleep wash over
her.

“Rest, child. You rest now. There’s

changes a comin’ soon.”

Chapter 2

Evelyn awoke with a start, feeling chilled to the bone. She gathered the bedcovers
close to her and glanced over at the clock. It was six a.m., an hour after the time
she normally woke. The morning dawn had yet to break the midnight gloom. It must
be stormy. She tried to sit up, then groaned and fell back on the pillows. It felt as if
someone had scraped the inside of her throat with sandpaper and replaced her
bones with water.

Evelyn stumbled to the bathroom and stared with bleary eyes at her mirrored
reflection. No doubt about it, she was sick as a dog on her first day of vacation from
work. Figured. She brushed her teeth, swallowed two acetaminophen tablets and lay
back down. Snuggling under the covers, she remembered the sound of Sweet
Mama’s voice. It had simply been a touch of the flu combined with missing Sweet
Mama so. She didn’t feel relieved at her conclusion, but rather, as if she’d lost
something all over again. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to slip back into
the soft cocoon of sleep.

When the ring of the doorbell cut into her sleep it seemed like mere minutes later.
But when she rolled over and stared at the clock, it was almost noon.

“I saw your car in the driveway,” Solomon said when Evelyn pulled open the door.
“You doing all right?”

Solomon was one of the best things about Mystic Ridge. The mailman seemed
ageless; he’d been there for as long as she could remember, always a smile or kind
word for anyone who seemed to be in need.

“I could be better, but then again I could be worse,” Evelyn replied.

He smiled at her. “Couldn’t we all?

She started to nod, then gasped. Beyond Solomon, the landscape was white,
glistening with snow and frost. She couldn’t remember the last time that snow
covered the ground in Mystic Ridge.

“It’s something else, isn’t it?” Solomon said. “The town is frozen shut and stopped
cold in its tracks. Everything’s closed.”

“How is it at the hospital?”

“Half the nurses can’t get in because of the roads. I hear they’re sending around
trucks and snowplows to bring them in.”

“Oh my goodness. Maybe I should go in.” Evelyn started to back away from the door.

“Hold on. You’re sick, it’s your vacation and it’s not like you get off work more than
once in a blue moon. They’ll be fine at the hospital.”

Evelyn sagged against the doorframe. “You’re right. But Solomon, this bug couldn’t
have hit me at a worse time.”

“Go on and get out of this chill and I’ll go get your packages and bring them in. Pull
that door shut now, and settle yourself on the couch.” Solomon hurried away to his
truck.

She went into he kitchen and put the teakettle on the stove. It had started to whistle
when Solomon came in hidden behind a stack of packages.

“You can drop those under the tree. I’ll go through them later. Can you stop for a
cup of tea?” Evelyn asked. “I have some Christmas cookies too. They’re from Sweet
Mama’s recipes. I remember how you used to love them.”

“I can’t resist that offer.” Solomon carefully picked a ginger man from the plate she
proffered and ate it in two bites. “You sure got Sweet Mama’s touch in the kitchen.”
He looked around. “Yeah, Sweet Mama’s spirit is here, as strong and proud as ever.”

The hairs crept up on the back on Evelyn’s neck. “I know what you mean,” she
whispered. “Sometimes it seems as if I can still hear her voice.”

Solomon shot a glance at her. “Your family’s roots are deep in Mystic Ridge’s soil.
Before Sweet Mama died she said it was about the time to set some wrongs right.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Those old stories; your family curse.”

“You’re talking about the old family legend? That’s ridiculous. The curse is just a
myth to explain our run of bad luck with men. And how could you set some curse
over a hundred and fifty years old right anyway?”

Solomon carefully chose a chocolate cookie and took a sip of tea before answering.
“The only way to break any sort of darkness is with the power and light of love. Life
is a circle, my dear. What goes around will always come around again. You can catch
it if you’re at the right time and place. A man cursed your ancestress in hate.
Another man, the right one at the right time, can bless you with his love.”

A bird trilled loudly and the church clock chimed. Solomon cocked his head. “Sounds
like the time is close.”

Evelyn shivered. “Solomon, quit it. You’re scaring me. That old story doesn’t make
any sense. It’s all confused and I don’t believe it anyway.”

A sad look covered Solomon’s features. “It happened all right. Clara, your
ancestress, was a house slave. It was a coveted position and one she just gained.
She was famous for her cooking and the cook’s position was always fairly secure in
the big house. She wouldn’t have to worry about being sold or mistreated as long as
she cared for others and dished up the food well.

“But she fell in love with a slave from a neighboring plantation. The personal servant
of the owner’s son, some say he was his brother. They had asked permission to
marry and been refused. She became pregnant anyway. They made plans to run
North. She was supposed to meet him by the old creek.

“Clara fretted and worried. She had a secure position and any child she had would be
well cared for. If she ran up North she’d be risking it all. Was love worth it? She
decided not. She sent her sister with a message that she couldn’t meet him. Her
sister told him that Clara didn’t love him and offered herself in Clara’s place. He
spurned Clara’s sister and she reported his intentions and whereabouts to his
master.

“His master sent the dogs. It had stormed that night and the creek was wild and
swollen. Clara’s lover let the waters take him rather than return to his plantation as a
slave. They say that the last words on his lips was a curse to the women of Clara
family . . . that they should be ever alone. ”

“And since then there have been no men child born that survive, no marriages that
last, no man that stays or survives. We are a family of women,” Evelyn finished.

“But the circle is closing. A change is coming soon.” Solomon sat his teacup down
and stood. “I got to get on my rounds. You take care of that flu, you hear?”

Evelyn nodded. She shivered again, but it wasn’t from the cold.

#

Evelyn went back to the bed after a generous dose of nighttime cold medication.
When the doorbell woke her again, she opened her eyes to the heavy headache of
too much sleep. She looked at the clock and gasped. Five-thirty in the evening! She
couldn’t believe she slept that long.

The doorbell rang again. It wouldn’t be her sisters. They all had keys and freely used
them. She got up and pulled on her robe.

The bell rang. “Hold on, I’m coming,” she yelled and immediately regretted the pain
it caused to her sore throat.

She pulled open the door and further words dried on her tongue. The man standing
on her doorstep was a handsome as a bronze Greek God or a gilded African prince.
He smiled at her. His smile started at the corner of his mobile well-shaped lips and lit
up his fire-touched tawny brown eyes. “Evelyn,” he said. “It’s good to see you after
so many years.”

Her eyes widened with alarm and she pulled her blue faded chenille bathrobe closer
to her body. David Douglas was standing in front of her in the flesh and her hair was
standing on end, she didn’t have on a speck of makeup, and her sleep-swollen face
probably looked as if she’d been through a prizefight.

“May I come in?” he asked.

“Uh, of course.” She stepped back from the door. “Please sit down. Excuse me for a
moment. I need to get dressed.” She fled.

Back in her bedroom she pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and grabbed a brush
and tried to scrape back her hair into a semblance of a ponytail.

She pulled open the bedroom door. What in heaven’s name was David doing here?
She took a deep breath and walked into the living room.

He was looking at her books. He withdrew a much-read volume from the
bookshelves and turned to her. “I love this book. I must have read every single book
from this writer at least three times.” His thumb caressed the paperback cover
lightly.

“Yes, Maya Angelou is one of my favorite authors too.”

She hesitated. Asking someone what he was doing in her house could be awkward.
“Won’t you sit down?” she asked, gesturing toward the couch.

He sat and looked at her, obviously waiting for her to speak. Silence fell as Evelyn
searched her mind frantically for the words to say.

“I expected your sisters to be here,” David said. “Especially Janet, since she was so
insistent that I come for dinner at your place tonight.”

Dinner! That was it. She remembered the conversation from last night and her initial
relief was followed immediately by alarm. She hadn’t cooked a thing all day. She’d
completely forgotten about dinner. Every piece of meat in the house was frozen.
What was she going to do? She sneezed.

“God Bless You.”

“Uh, thanks,” she said, reaching for a Kleenex. “Excuse me,” she said, and blew her
nose.

“You’ve got a cold.”

“Yes. I’ve been in bed all day. And I’ve got to confess, I completely forgot about
dinner.”

“I understand. But where are your sisters? After all, technically, they are the ones
who invited me.”

“I have no idea.”

The phone rang and Evelyn reached for it.

“Girl, we slid down an embankment,” Deb said as soon as the hello slipped out of
Evelyn’s mouth. “It’s hell out here. The tow guys are going to have to winch out
Janet’s new car. She’s been griping nonstop. She had the nerve to say it all my fault-
-”

“Are you two all right?” Evelyn interrupted.

“We’re fine, but I don’t see how we are going to make it over in time for dinner.”

“David Douglas is here.”

“Better you alone with him than that barracuda Janet. After you feed him and be
sure and invite him back.”

“Deb . . . ”

“I got to go. Here’s our ride. See you.” Then a click and the sound of a dial tone filled
Evelyn’s ear.

She slowly set the phone on the cradle. “My sister’s car went off the road. They
won’t be able to make it for dinner.”

“They’re all right?”

“Deb says they’re fine, although Janet’s not happy about the damage to her new
car.”

“I’m sorry about that. And you’re not feeling well. Maybe we should all get together
another time?” he asked.

“Ummmmm, yes . . . another time.”

He smiled at her and she swallowed hard. The man was so fine. He had the tall lean
grace and chiseled good looks she remembered from high school, but his features

were overlaid with a fine-polished patina of maturity, and his body radiated pure
masculine sexuality.

David got up heavily and walked to the door. When she saw his limp, her heart went
out to him. That touch of vulnerability made him even more appealing. “Are you
okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine. The cold and damp have made me a little more stiff, but it’ll pass.”

He picked up his coat that he’d laid over a chair and pulled it on. “It’s nice to see you
again,” he said. “You were one of my favorite people in high school.”

She was? She wasn’t in his crowd, but rather was simply one of a number of young
women who had cast admiring glances his way.

“I hope you feel better,” he was saying.

“I’ll be fine. Uh, sorry about dinner. I hope you can come back soon.”

“Sure. Give me a call.” Then he was out the door. Evelyn leaned against the
doorjamb, heedless of the frosty air and watched him make his way to his father’s
Buick on the curb.

The hole within her heart echoed with something like longing as she watched his
lithe body move through the snow. What wouldn’t she give for once in her life to
have a man like that? Keep dreaming, sister. It wasn’t about to happen. Not to a
woman like her.

David’s car motor revved. Evelyn started to move away from the door and drew it
shut. But then his wheels spun in the ice with a sharp whine. He rocked his car
forward and back again. Then Evelyn gave a little shriek as his car lurched forward
suddenly and slipped past the curb into the gutter.

A moment passed and he slammed the car door behind him. He crunched through
the snow back to her door. “Looks like I’m going to be here for a while,” he said.

Evelyn nodded and stood aside to let him in.

Chapter 3

David paced as he talked on the phone. His strides were loose and easy instead of
nervous or tight. Evelyn imagined she could see his high, rounded buttocks flex
through his khakis. She bit her lower lips, filled with a mixture of worry,
anticipation and excitement. David Douglas, the finest specimen of man she’d ever
laid eyes on in her entire life was stranded in her house, probably for the night.

He laid the phone down and looked at her. “Seems like you’re going to have to put
of for me for the night,” he said.

She was struck by a paroxysm of coughing and grabbed for a tissue.

David’s brow creased as he looked down at her. “You’re sick. Stretch out on the
couch.” She stared at him, confused.

“Now,” he said reaching over her and picking up the afghan blanket draped over the
back of the sofa. She lay down and he covered her with the blanket, tucking it in
around her sides. He was close, too close. His smelled of sandalwood and spicy
cloves. She closed her eyes for a moment and his hand grazed her hip.

“I make the best chicken soup in the state,” David said.

Her eyes flew open. “What?”

“I make the best chicken soup in the state and I’m going to go and make you some
now.”

“The chicken’s frozen.”

“You have a microwave, don’t you?”

“Yes, but–” She started to struggle up.

“Please don’t move. He gently pushed her back on the couch and handed her the
television remote. “Here, watch a little TV. I’ll make you some tea and toast to hold
you until the soup is done and I’ll have some too.”

“But–”

“Not buts. I know my way around a kitchen. Let me take care of you. It’s the least
I can do for your having to put up with me all night when you’re sick.”

His words, “Let me take care of you” dried the protests on her tongue. Evelyn
watched mutely as he disappeared into the kitchen. Nobody ever took care of her.
It was her job to take care of everyone else.

Evelyn supposed she’d have him sleep in Ashley’s old room tonight. She looked at
her watch. It was barely six. The evening was young and she was going to spend it
with the most eligible bachelor in town. She knew she looked a mess. She raised
her head and it started a pounding. She gave a little groan and let her head fall
back on the pillow.

David walked in with a steaming cup of tea and a plate of hot buttered toast. “It’s a
good thing I got stranded here. You’re far too sick to be alone tonight,” he said. He
put everything on the coffee table, and disappeared. A moment later he had two
plump pillows from her bed. He raised her effortlessly with one hand and put the
pillows behind her, plumping them and leaning her back against the fluffy softness.
“You rest. I’m going into the kitchen and prepare to show off my stuff.”

Evelyn smiled weakly at him and watched him walk a way toward her kitchen. Lord,
that man looked as good going as he did coming. She turned on the TV and sipped

her tea. It was good. He’d sweetened it with honey and added a touch of lemon.
The sound of canned laughter on the television soon became annoying and she
clicked the TV off and snuggled back into the pillows. It felt both strange and good
to hear someone rattling about her kitchen while she relaxed.

David Douglas still had the sweet charm she remembered from high school. He’d
been unfailingly kind and usually cheerful. He was also still more than enough in the
looks department to send any woman’s pulse fluttering. She used to fantasize about
him when she was a teenager along with half the female population of Mystic Ridge
around her age, she was sure. Evelyn’s eyes closed and she drifted away . . .

The smell of greenery and spring air sweet and fragrant with new and tender blooms
assailed her nostrils. She was laying under a willow tree, in a soft bed of bruised
young leaves and fresh cut hay, a long unbleached muslin dress pushed up around
her smooth brown legs.

The leaves parted and there David stood, dressed only in trousers of the same sort
of rough material. He went to her and she opened her arms as naturally as a plant
turning her face to the sun. He eased his body over hers and his lips touched hers
with a passion that was as familiar as it was blazing.

“Clara, my love,” his whispered, his voice hoarse. She reached out and caressed his
cheek.

“Daniel,” she answered.

He kissed her again and their breathing became rushed, their bodies pressing against
each others, seeking . . .

Their hands greedily reached for skin, pulling away clothing, skin against skin. He
rained kisses on the curves of her breasts, lower and lower until he encircled her
nipple with his tongue. The timeless moans of a woman wanting a man came from
her throat. She wanted him, needed him, all of him.

When he moved his hardness across her thighs, she gasped with pleasure. This
pleasure with this man felt so right, so perfect, it was why she had been created.

He poised himself above her, his weight on his arms.

“Please, please,” she begged, her hips churning. Her feminine emptiness needed
and wanted to be filled with this man more than anything in the world.

Her legs grasped his slim hips and he started to move against her.

“Evelyn.” Her eyes fluttered open and met Daniel’s–no, David’s, warm brown eyes.
“Evelyn, are you all right? You were gasping. . .”

“I’m fine,” she said, feeling heat under her skin. It matched the warmth of her
lingering arousal and the moistness she felt between her thighs. “I was sleeping.”

“I’ve got your soup.” He set her food before her on a wooden tray with a flourish.
He handed a spoon and napkin and settled back into the recliner with a glass of ice
tea and an expectant look.

She could hardly look at him without remembering the vision of him unclothed in her
dream, all lean rippling muscles and smooth caramel skin. When had been the last
time she’d had a man? She couldn’t readily remember, so obviously the experience
hadn’t been worth remembering. She knew she’d remember a man like David
Douglas forever. What had she called him in her dream? Daniel. And what had he
called her?

“So how is the soup?”

“It’s delicious,” she said. It was. The soup was delicately spiced and rich with
chunks of chicken, egg noodles, carrots, onion and celery. He hadn’t been lying
when he said he made good chicken soup.

“Aren’t you eating?”

“I’m not hungry. I did my share of tasting in the kitchen. Eating your own food is
not nearly the fun of cooking it.”

“I know what you mean. Sometimes it seems as if I do most of my eating at the
stove too.”

“It’s good to get a break for your own cooking once in a while.” David looked at her
closely. “You have a dreamy look yet around the eyes. Were your dreams good?”

She shot a glance at him, alarmed. How could he know?

“Or did you have nightmares?”

She dipped a corner of her toast into her soup and took a sip of the orange juice he’d
put beside her plate before answering. “I dreamed of things that were out of my
reach.”

“Ahhh. I know. Sweet dreams that leave a taste of dissatisfaction with yourself or
your life in your mouth.”

“I can scarcely imagine you dissatisfied with either,” Evelyn said.

David looked away. “A life lived without mistakes and regrets is a life not fully
lived.”

“Are regrets made lighter through sharing them?” she asked.

He met her eyes. “I don’t know. Are they?”

“I’ve only made one mistake of any significance in my life and it was a doozy. But I
can’t bring myself to regret it.”

“Your daughter.”

“Yes, my daughter. What about you?”

“I have two children I hardly ever see. Those are my biggest regrets. Two women
whose hearts I failed to hold. Mistakes. When I married, I always had this fantasy
of happily-ever-after.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“I suppose.” He sighed. “Did you ever marry?”

“No. I’ve never had the opportunity. I’m pretty busy, you know?”

“Do you have the inclination?”

“Sometimes the idea of the companionship is nice. But then I see some of my
acquaintance’s marriages and it seems as if I’m not doing too bad. We’re a close
family, my sisters and I.”

“Yes, I remember. They are very different from you.”

A wry smile crossed Evelyn’s lips. “More attractive, more outgoing, you mean.”

“Not necessarily. I find your company very easy and you know beauty is in the eye
of the beholder.

Evelyn took another sip of soup, feeling flustered. “This soup is really good,” she
repeated.

“One thing about sharing regrets,” David said.

“What is that?”

“It might not make the regrets lighter, but it does make the one you shared them
with a friend.” When he smiled at her, it felt as if the sun broke through the sky on
a rainy day.

Evelyn inhaled and exhaled slowly. “I can’t eat anymore. My appetite . . .”

David stood to take her plate and touch her forehead. “You’re burning up. You
should be in bed.”

She couldn’t protest. He took her hand and pulled up from the couch. She felt her
hand trembling within his like a small, hot bird as he led her to her bedroom. He
turned to her at the door and she thought her heart would stop when his head
lowered toward hers. He dropped a friendly kiss on her forehead.

“The linen closet is outside the bathroom. There’s bedding in there. You can sleep
in Ashley’s room,” she managed to say.

“Take some aspirin,” he said. He turned and left and she closed the door behind him
feeling bemused. She felt as if she was in some sort of fairy tale; stranded alone
with this fine man for the night. Just her luck she’d have a raging fever, cough and
sniffles. She pulled off her clothes and had just dropped a flannel nightgown over
her head when she heard a soft knock on the door.

“Your pillows,” David said, holding them out. She took the pillows from him and held
them to her chest. “Sweet dreams,” he said. Suddenly, his head cocked to one
side. “Do you hear that?”

She listened and her eyes widened. There was the faint sound of women singing.

“Have you left on a radio anywhere?” he asked.

“No. I haven’t.”

He shrugged. “Must have been the wind.”

“No, I heard it too. Women singing.”

It probably came from outside.” He drew closer to her and she held her breath. “I
had a really good time, probably a whole lot better than if things had turned out as
planned.”

Her heart pounded. “I don’t feel as if I’ve been much of a hostess.”

“You’ve been wonderful.” A flash of that crooked smile and he was gone.

There was a sound like a slow, collective exhale after the door closed behind him.
Evelyn looked around the room. “The last thing I need is to be haunted. Do you
hear me, Sweet Mama?”

“You say something to me?” David called through the door?

“No. I didn’t say anything. Good night.” Evelyn crawled under the blankets. The
smell of spring and freshly cut hay wafted across her face and she set up in bed. It
was the middle of winter in the biggest snowstorm in years. What was going on?
She remembered David’s cocked head and quizzical expression at the faint sound of
women singing. If she was losing her mind, maybe she wasn’t losing it alone.

She thought about what Solomon said about the circle of life going around. He had
said another man; a man coming at just the right time would bless her with his love
thus ending the family curse. Was David a part of that circle? Somehow it felt as if
they belonged to each other, as unlikely as that seemed. But curses and old family
legends were things dreams were made of. Dreams that a man like David really
belonged to her were as elusive and unreal as magic.

Chapter 4

Evelyn opened her eyes to the aroma of coffee. Daniel was here, she thought, filled
with a warm glow at the thought of his strong hands and loving heart. Daniel? David.
David was here and she didn’t know a thing about his strong hands on her body and
she likely never would.

Evelyn stood and touched her head. She felt much better. At least the flu bug had
been of short duration. Walking to the dresser mirror, she stared at herself and
sighed. No, she had no hope of snaring a man like David. Her short black hair, barely
long enough to scrape into a ponytail, stood straight up. Her relaxer sorely needed a
touch up, cause the naps on the back of her neck were threatening to take over.

Her body was sturdy and plump, not willowy with feminine curves like her sisters.
Her skin was the color of Hershey’s chocolate, her features distinctly African.
Brothers who would turn all the way around when one of her sisters passed wouldn’t
give her a second glance on the street.

Evelyn Sweet was no one’s flavor of choice. That had been just fine with her, seeing
all the trifling men her sisters had racked up . . . until now. David Douglas pulled
strings in her heart she didn’t even know she had. There seemed to be some sort of
indefinable connection between them. Like they knew each other–intimately. She
sensed that he felt it too. She remembered her dream of Clara and Daniel. Evelyn
and David? The circle turns.

She bit her lower lip and turned away from the mirror. She needed to stop thinking
foolishness. She’d have to leave this room to face David sometimes. It would be
better to do it showered, groomed than dressed rather than sick and on disarray like
she’d been yesterday.

Then she heard the shower come on and sank back on the bed. The thought of him
in her shower, hot water sluicing over that perfect body . . . oh my. Then Evelyn
shook her head to clear it. Her thoughts hadn’t wandered so persistently in those
directions since she’d been a teenager. Get a grip, girl.

David turned his face up to the showerhead. The warm water felt good. He’d had a
good night’s sleep, much better than he thought he’d have in a strange bed. But
being here in Evelyn house felt wholly comfortable to him. Her home was like her,
warm, old-fashioned and comforting. He liked her immediately, more so than his
usual somewhat guarded reactions to women. She was also quite unlike the type he
usually dated. He couldn’t imagine dating Evelyn, or any sort of casual relationship
with her really. But he could imagine living with her . . . waking up next to her every
morning of the rest of his life.

He turned off the shower with a quick motion. What was wrong with him? He barely
knew the woman. At this stage of the game it was normal to think about what a

woman looked like naked or their sweaty, heaving body underneath his own, but
domestic bliss? Hardly.

He toweled himself off with a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He needed to
shave badly. He remembered seeing a package of disposable razors in the linen
closet outside the bathroom. He adjusted the towel and opened the door.

David looked up into the astonished faces of three women. Evelyn’s sisters.

Evelyn heard the shower cut off. Keys jangled in the front door a few minutes later
and Evelyn sat bolt upright in her bed. Oh Lord, her sisters. You know they’d find a
way over at the crack of dawn to find out what the story was with David. She
reached for her robe.

“Good morning,” she called as she pulled open her bedroom door. Evelyn drew in a
breath at the tableau that unfolded in front of her. David stood there, frozen like a
bronzed god with only a towel draped around his middle. Her three sister’s eyes
bugged and their jaws dropped toward the carpet. For some reason the sight
satisfied Evelyn. “I’m surprised you’re here so early,” she said calmly to her sisters.

Her words seemed to unfreeze David. “I’m going–going to get dressed now,” he said
and fled to the bathroom.

Evelyn smiled at her sisters and went into the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of
coffee. It would probably take a minute or two for her sisters to pick their jaws up off
the floor and make it into the kitchen. She started to get cups for them, but then
settled back into her chair. They knew where the coffee cups were.

Sure enough, her sisters sailed in, wafting a residue of shock. “So what happened?”
Janet demanded. “Why did that man spend the night?”

Beverly chuckled. “It’s obvious what happened. It’s about time you finally got some,
Evelyn.”

“I don’t believe that for a moment David Douglas is that hard up,” Deb snapped.

Evelyn sat her cup of coffee down so hard on the table that it splashed and
overflowed. She ignored the spill. “Excuse me, what do you mean, hard up? I see
you need reminding that this is my house you’re standing in.”

Beverly pulled out a chair and sat. “I need a cup of coffee,” she said.

“So do I,” said Janet.

They both looked toward Evelyn. She didn’t move.

Janet frowned, then got up and got herself a coffee mug out of the cabinet and
poured her a cup. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” she muttered to Evelyn.

“How about David Douglas?” Beverly cracked.

“I wouldn’t believe that until I saw it in action,” Janet said.

“Where’s my cup of coffee?” Beverly asked Janet.

“Get it yourself.”

Deb was still glowering and pouting at Evelyn’s retort.

Evelyn chuckled, stood and stretched. “I’m going to shower and dress,” she
announced. Her walk had a decided bounce to it as she walked out the door.

David entered the kitchen with some trepidation. Evelyn’s three sisters sat around
the table sipping coffee. From the way the conversation stopped when he walked into
the room, he knew they’d been talking about him.

“Hello, everyone. I was wondering if any of you could give me a ride home.”

“You’re having car problems?” one of the sisters asked. Janet he thought her name
was. He always got them mixed up. They looked so similar and so different from
Evelyn,

“My car slipped in the ice last night. It’s stuck.”

“Ahhh,” said the smallest sister, the youngest one. The syllable was laden with
understanding. So that’s why you spent the night with my ugly sister, she’d said
without words.

David felt a surge of protectiveness toward Evelyn. “Yeah. I don’t regret it though. If
it wasn’t for that I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to . . . get to know Evelyn
better.” And with those words he strode from the kitchen.

He knocked on Evelyn’s bedroom door.

“Come in,” she said in her soft voice.

He closed the door behind him. Evelyn stood in front of her dresser mirror, makeup
scattered in front of her.

“I’m going to ask one of your sisters for a ride home,”

Her face closed like a shutter and she turned and faced the mirror. “Okay.”

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Much better.”

“That’s good,” David said. “I wanted to let you know privately how much I enjoyed
our conversation last night.”

“It didn’t seem like we talked much. I spent most of the evening asleep. But that
chicken soup was wonderful. I should be thanking you.”

“No thanks needed. Sleep and chicken soup are probably why you feel better today.”
He paused. “I wanted to also let you know that I’m not interested in your sisters.”

Evelyn turned to the mirror and picked up her lipstick. “It would be none of my
business if you were.”

“I wish you could make it your business. I’d like to see you again.”

She turned and faced him, a glint of anger in her eyes. “I don’t need your pity, David
Douglas.”

“You don’t have it. You do have my interest though.”

She looked down in confusion and David caught her chin and pulled it out, forcing
her eyes to meet his. The door flew open and her three sisters all fell into the room.

“That door latch must be broken,” Janet said. “Sorry.” Her sisters all backed out of
the room and pulled the door shut again.

David and Evelyn looked at each other and simultaneously chuckled.

“Your sisters are a mess,” he said.

“Don’t you know it. A little shaking up is good for them.”

“It’s better for you. I sense you need a change in your life, Evelyn Sweet. I sense it
with every bone in my body.”

Her smile faded and David hated to see it go. Her smile lit up her face and the
beauty of her soul radiated from her features. He didn’t understand why she didn’t
consider herself attractive.

“It seems as if I’ve heard that I need a change from several different people,” she
said.

David caught her hand. “I think that your change is right here, Evelyn,” he said.

Chapter 5

Evelyn looked out the window at the swirling snowflakes. It would be a white
Christmas, the first one in Mystic Ridge in several decades. The town was frozen,
stopped cold, but the houses glowed with holiday lights and activities. Evelyn felt
more alive than she had in years. There was a tingling quality there, a breathless
anticipation. It had nothing to do with the Christmas season and everything to do
with David Douglas.

The ring of the phone interrupted her thoughts.

“Hi Mom, I just wanted to tell you I’m not going to make it home until Christmas
Eve,” her daughter, Ashley, said.

Evelyn let her silence reply.

“Travis is having this great party and I’ve promised Melanie I’d go shopping with
her,” Ashley continued

“What about us?” Evelyn asked. What about me? She wanted scream the words.
She missed Ashley so much sometimes. This growing up and growing apart hurt
more than seemed fair.

“I’ll be there for Christmas. Knowing you, I know you have all the Christmas
arrangements under control and the sisters haven�t lifted a finger to help.”

“I miss you, Ashley.”

“I miss you too, Mom. The best thing about Christmas for me wasn’t the presents,
but all the stuff we did together, especially the cooking.”

“And the tasting,” Evelyn added with a chuckle.

“It’s just that now, well . . .my friends are important to me too. I just started dating
Travis and he really wants me to be there for him.”

“Do you want to ask him here for the holidays?”

“His family would freak if he didn’t spend Christmas with them.”

“Believe me, I understand. Speaking of–I think I’m going to ask David here for the
Christmas Eve dinner.”

“They put you up to that? Aunt Deb, I bet.”

“No. I’ve been seeing him the last couple of days.”

Silence. Then a shriek. “You’re kidding, Mom!”

“Nooooo, I’m not kidding, although I can hardly believe it myself. It seems that he’s
taken a interest in me.”

“You know, I’m not surprised. You know I love my aunts, but you’re nicer than all of
them put together.”

A warm glow filled Evelyn at her daughter’s words. “He might not be able to come,
but I didn’t want you to be surprised in case he shows up.”

“You go, Mom. Don’t let your sisters put a damper on this. I bet Aunt Deb is having
a fit. It’s about time you went for the gusto.”

“David Douglas might be a little more gusto than I can handle.”

“No woman would have any problem handling that. He might be old, but he’s fine.”

The beep of call waiting broke in. “Hold on, Mom,” Ashley said. A second later, she
was back. “I gotta go, it’s Travis.”

“Bye baby,” Evelyn murmured before she hung up. Her daughter was right. It was
about time she had a taste of the gusto.

#

Evelyn touched her hair nervously before she pulled open the door.

David stood there, blindingly handsome in a suit and tie. “You look great,” he said.

Evelyn smiled at him and picked up her coat. He took it from her and gently eased it
over her shoulders.

“I had to make reservations,” he said.

“At La Costa?” It was the only decent restaurant in town, but reservations had never
been required before.

“Mystic Ridge is full of friends and family this holiday season and it seems as if a lot
of people are eating out.”

“I’ve eaten out more these last few days than I’ve done the past few years.” Evelyn
said, as they walked down the shoveled driveway to David’s car.”

“Good. Someone else needs to do the cooking for you once in a while. How are
your sisters holding up under the strain?”

They’d discussed her sister’s complaints about the lack of dinners at Evelyn’s house
the last few days.

“They’re griping, but I notice that none of them look like they’re going hungry.”

The Maitre d’ seated them in an intimate quiet spot. They ordered their food and
Evelyn fingered her wine glass. David looked around. “It’s good being home, but I
could never live here again.”

Evelyn’s stomach fluttered and she lifted her wine glass to her lips. “Why not?” she
asked.

“I’ve experienced all this town has to offer. There’s too much out there. My heart
has moved on.”

“I don’t think my heart could ever leave Mystic Ridge. It feels as if I’m a tree
planted here. My roots are deep,” Evelyn said.

“Nothing could persuade you to uproot yourself?” David touched her hand.

Her mouth dried. “I’m afraid I might wither,” she whispered.

“Not if you’re well cared for.”

Evelyn looked away. She had to be reading in the undertones of this conversation.
He couldn’t possibly mean . . . It was far too soon.

“How is your father?” she asked.

“Dad is perfectly content. He’s dating a widow from church and he’s set in his
routine. He’s happy to see me, but it feels like I’ve unsettled his routine more than
anything.”

“So what are your Christmas plans?”

“Dad’s going to celebrate Christmas with his lady friend, Gina Brown and her family.
It’s the third Christmas he’s done so and I understand he’s sort of expected. He’s
looking forward to it. I’m invited of course,” David added.

“I’d love to have you join us for our Christmas Eve dinner. Christmas too, if you
like,” Evelyn murmured.

David’s face lit up, and he intertwined his fingers with hers. “I’d like that,” he said.

A rush of pure happiness filled Evelyn. Their eyes met and it felt as if the world
stopped for a moment. It made no sense. They were so different and almost
strangers, but being together felt so right.

“Our family has some Christmas traditions,” she said. “On Christmas Eve the kids go
over to Bev’s and they tell stories and such. The adults go over to Sweet Mama’s
house and we have dinner Christmas Eve and exchange our gifts. Christmas Day the
kids come to Sweet Mama’s and open their presents. We generally eat all day and
pass out in a stupor sometimes near evening.”

David chuckled. “Sounds nice. Especially the eating part.”

Despite the conversation, Evelyn’s attention was focused on her hand in his.
Electricity seemed to flow between their fingers.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said and paused. “Evelyn– I wonder . . . Does it ever
seem to you that we’ve met before?”

Evelyn withdrew her hand, shaken. “All the time.”

“Are you thinking about high school?” he said. “I mean it’s more than that.
Sometimes it feels like we’ve been together before–like we’ve had a relationship
before.”

“Like a dream?” Evelyn whispered.

David frowned and looked away. “No. My dreams are disturbing lately. That’s
unusual. I’ve never remembered my dreams before.”

“Tell me.”

“I dreamed I was drowning in a rush of water. It was terrible. The water filling my
lungs, the utter despair, then the blackness.”

“My mother and grandmother drowned together.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We never found out what they were doing by the creek in the rain like that. A flash
flood and they were washed away.”

David’s face was grave and his thumb rotated in the center of her palm.

“It was a long time ago,” she continued. “I mentioned it because afterwards, for a
long time I had dreams about drowning. I remember how awful it was.”

“You understand. I’ve only had this dream once, but I remember it as if it actually
happened.”

“Sweet Mama told me that water in dreams means emotions. She said I was afraid
of my emotions and grief overwhelming me.”

David nodded. “That’s a good explanation,” he said and looked away. Evelyn looked
at her plate and picked up her fork.

The subject of dreams was an uneasy one.

“The mailman, Solomon told me something the other day. He was talking about our
family legend,” she said. The water is deep and you don’t know where the currents
lead, but jump on in.

“Family legend? That sounds interesting. Tell me about it.”

Evelyn shifted with embarrassment. It wasn’t easy to tell a man you’re intensely
attracted to about this particular sort of curse. “A slave from a neighboring
plantation had fallen in love with our ancestress. They’d made plans to run north.
At the last moment she changed her mind. He ended up drowning in Sorrow Creek
and he cursed her with his dying breath.” Evelyn paused and took a deep breath.

“What was the curse?” David asked.

“That there would be no men in our family.”

“No men? How could that be?”

“We generally only have female children and our marriages don’t last long. That is,
if we’re lucky enough to marry in the first place.”

“That does seem like bad luck.”

“I think it’s just a made up story to account for our sorry track records with men.”

“My family has nothing as romantic as a family legend and a curse.”

“It would be our luck to have a curse that’s the opposite of all things romantic.
Solomon said that maybe our luck will change soon.”

“Oh?”

“He said the time is coming where we can be decursed.”

“How is that?”

“I’m not sure. Something with men.”

“I’d sure hope so.”

They both started laughing at the same time. Then the conversation turned to
comfortable subjects–the past, mutual acquaintances, her job. Evelyn felt wholly
relaxed in his presence. Meant to be.

Afterwards, when they stood at her front door, they turned toward each other. “Do
you want to come in for coffee?” Evelyn asked.

“I better not.” David’s eyes were full of some unfathomable emotion. He bent his
head toward her and pulled her close. When his lips touched hers, a spark of
electricity traveled through her. His lips were mobile, firm, warm. His arms around
her felt so right. Too right.

She trembled. She felt him tremble too and he drew away. They looked into each
other’s eyes and she could see the passion clouding his eyes and she knew it clouded
hers. This was unbelievable. Too fast.

The emotions between them were like a silent freight train rushing. He touched her
cheek and turned wordlessly and walked to his car. They both knew if he came in
what would happen. Too soon.

The phone was ringing as she entered the house, but she ignored it and let the
answering machine pick it up. She dropped her shoes in the middle of the living
room floor and headed for her bedroom. She uncharacteristically left her clothes on
the bedroom floor. As she brushed her teeth, all she could think of were dreams and
magic and David Douglas. Her feelings for him had turned into wildfire, quick and
all-consuming.

No, it wasn’t like her at all. She was a naturally cautious person, a person unused
and leery of change. She was letting this man sweep her away as if he were a river
and she was helpless against the current. With him she wasn’t afraid of drowning.
She crawled in bed and closed her eyes, welcoming her dreams.

Chapter 6

Clara woke with a start. The morning sky was turning pink already and she could
hear the song of birds. She’d overslept again. She’d have to hurry to get breakfast
ready. Tillie would have started the preparations, but the family wouldn’t be satisfied
without her own soft, fluffy white biscuits.

She didn’t want to rise from her coarse bedding and straw mattress. Lately she’d felt
tired down to the bones. She touched the soft swell of her belly and her eyes
widened. Suddenly she knew. A smile curved her lips. A wondrous thing. A perfect
thing. She was going to have Daniel’s baby. A part of her was a part of the man who
she loved more than life itself. With her position in this house, his child would be
safe. They would never sell her child away from her. Ever.

“Evelyn!” Tillie’s voice called . . .

“Evelyn, wake up, girl!” Deb was sitting on the bed, a cigarette dangling from her
fingers.

Evelyn sat up in the bed, still disoriented from her dream. “Put that thing out. You
know better than to smoke in my house.”

“Well, excuse me,” Deb said, but she went into the bathroom and dropped the
cigarette in the toilet. “I had to have a cig because I waited forever for you to wake
up. You were in here snoring like a wild boar–”

“A wild boar?”

“Okay, so you were just breathing heavy. I made a pot of coffee.”

“Good. I need a cup.” Evelyn pushed the covers away and got up and went into the
bathroom. “Pour me one will you?” she called. “Lots of cream, no sugar.”

“When did I start looking like your maid?” Deb answered.

It was too early in the morning for Deb’s crap. Evelyn pushed the door open and
came out of the bathroom with her jaw tight. But before she could say a word, Deb
threw up her hands and said, “All right. I’m going to get you a cup,” and switched
out of the room muttering about grumpy sisters.

Twenty minutes later, Deb came back into Evelyn’s bedroom proffering a mug of
coffee. Evelyn took it, went into the living room and turned on the television to the
morning news. Deb trailed her and sat on the chair adjacent nursing her own coffee.

“What happened with you and David last night?” Deb asked, too casually. “I heard
you two were seen at La Costa.

“We had a nice meal,” Evelyn answered, her attention pointedly on the television.

“What did he say about me?”

Evelyn looked at Deb. “Why do think he said something about you?”

“Well, that’s obviously the reason he asked you out. He must be hesitant to ask me
out directly–”

Evelyn snorted in a purposeful imitation of a wild boar. “I’m going to get dressed.”

“So what did he say about me?”

Evelyn turned slowly to face her sister and put her hand on her hip. “He didn’t say a
thing about you. He had quite a bit to say to me though. He’ll be over here
Christmas Eve.”

“He’s coming to spend Christmas Eve! He must really want to see me. What shall I
wear?”

Evelyn shook her head. “You just don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

Evelyn raised her hand and went into her room, shutting the door behind her. Lord,
give her strength. She thought. Deb worked her last nerve.

#

At precisely seven on Christmas Eve, Evelyn pulled the door open for David. He was
loaded down with an armful of presents wrapped in bright paper. Deb, overdressed
in a short, tight red velvet dress rushed to him, practically knocking Evelyn over.

“David, I’ve been looking to seeing you again,” Deb gushed. “Please come in. I hope
those all aren’t for me?”

David looked bowled over by this torrent of words. “Uh, they’re for everybody,” he
said.

Deb grabbed the presents from his arms and went to the tree with them, shaking
each one carefully before she set them under the Christmas tree. Evelyn noticed her
frowning as she stuck a small box way in the back.

She left him to the ministrations of her sisters while she went to the kitchen and
poured him some hot buttered rum. He looked like he might need some fortification.
Dinner was ready to go on the table. She stood inhaling the aroma-laden air. Duck
with lemon sauce, wild rice dressing and Virginia ham, greens and cornbread
dressing. Cakes, pies and her special homemade candy cane ice cream, and more.
She’d been up all night and it smelled like it would be worth the effort.

Bev came in. “Time to put the food on the table?”

“Yes. Give me a hand.”

“All right.” Bev moved toward the table. “Deb’s got that poor man cornered,” she
said. “But I think this is one trophy she’s not going to be able to put on her mantle. I
doubt if she’ll take it well,” Bev said.

“Me either.”

Bev looked at her out of the corner of her eyes as she poured the gravy into the
boat. “I hear that you and David might be an item. Deb says it’s not possible.”

“Last time I checked, I was just as much a woman as her,” Evelyn said.

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that you’ve never shown much of interest in men
before.”

“Things change,” Evelyn said as picked up the platter of the family’s traditional
Christmas duck and wild rice dressing. She caught the speculative look Bev gave her
as she sailed out of the door.

Let them worry and wonder, she thought. She hugged what she and David had
shared together to herself like a delicious secret.

#

Deb sure was showing her tail, Evelyn thought as she savored her last bite of duck in
the delicate lemon sauce. She slid a piece of rum cake on her dessert plate. Deb was

laughing too loudly in David’s face. How did she know that he hated that? There was
nothing she could do to check Deb, so she just watched and inwardly shook her
head. How did she know that Deb was making David feel uncomfortable? He was
behaving with perfect courtesy, showing no evidence of discomfort whatsoever.

Why did she feel she knew this man so well, body and soul? Heaven knew they
weren’t a perfect match, she a small-town homebody with plain looks, he an
exciting, handsome well-traveled man. Her gifts were a flair for cooking and the
ability and love of giving. But with her family she had to admit the giving was
wearing then.

“We need some more whipped cream, Evelyn,” Janet said.

“You know where the kitchen is,” she answered pleasantly right before she ate a
forkful of rum cake. The cake was really good. She knew she’d outdone herself for
the entire meal, but no one had expressed appreciation except David.

Maybe she’d done her sisters a disservice by trying so hard to fill Sweet Mama’s
shoes. They were dissatisfied women. It wasn’t because they didn’t have enough
money or a good man. It was because they weren’t grateful enough for what they
did have. That was another thing that made her different. If n