Page 121 of Mistletoe and Mischief

He thought about it, then nodded.

Personally, Justine would be content to toss the letter. Yet a part of her wanted to know what Warren had to say. Taking a deep breath, she opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. She read it, then crumpled it in one hand.

“What did he say?”

“Just that he’ll be up for parole in a few years and wondered if I’d be waiting for him when he’s released.”

“You’re joking!”

“The man is delusional,” she groaned. Even now, Warren seemed to be living in a dreamworld. He’d convinced himself that she was pining for him, anticipating his release. Needless to say, she had no interest in the man who’d done his best to ruin her and Seth’s lives.

Taking the letter, she threw it inside the recycling bin, among the unwanted flyers and empty cereal boxes.

Seth grinned, and she grinned in reply. “Merry Christmas, my dear husband.”

“Merry Christmas, my darling wife.”

13

“What are we going to do?” Sophie whispered to her older sister. “Nothing’s turning out like we planned.”

“You’re telling me?” Bailey muttered back. Dinner was on the table. The lasagna, with the salad next to it, sat in the center. Wooden serving utensils leaned against the side of the large salad bowl. The bread was out of the oven, and the warm pungent scent of butter and garlic wafted through the house.

Peering out the swinging kitchen door into the formal dining room, Bailey saw that the situation was even worse than she’d realized. Mom was in one corner of the room, deep in conversation with Ted Reynolds. Danielle and Dad stood on the opposite side. Danielle appeared to be talking Kent’s ears off, no doubt regaling him with horror stories of the time she’d spent alone with his daughters. She was clutching her cell phone—again. While Kent and Beth were away, she’d made repeated calls but hadn’t connected, growing more and more frustrated. Her impatience with Bailey and Sophie had increased just as quickly.

Okay, so that part of their plan had worked perfectly. Danielle had been stuck with the two of them, and she hadn’t liked it one bit. She’d been outsmarted by Beth and wasn’t in any mood to be friendly with Bailey and Sophie. Besides, she was distracted, frequently calling and texting some unknown person.

Not long after their parents left, Bailey and Sophie had learned that Danielle knew next to nothing about making a Caesar salad. She assumed all salad dressing came out of a bottle. When Bailey informed her their mother made her own, Danielle snarled that she could make her own, too, only she needed a recipe. Tearing through Beth’s cookbooks, she finally came up with one but was disgusted by half the ingredients. No way was she using anchovies! In the end, she’d opted for the bottled Italian dressing she’d found in the fridge.

“Your mother makes her own dressing. Oh, yeah, I can tell!” Danielle had brandished the half-full bottle. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” she’d raged. “You’re just saying that so I’ll feel inferior.” Danielle fumed until Kent returned. Her cell phone was in her hands constantly, and her thumbs worked at sending text messages. Bailey and Sophie had several whispered conversations about it, wondering who she was trying so hard to reach.

Danielle had cornered Kent in the dining room, her mouth moving at warp speed. It didn’t look as if Dad had an opportunity to say much of anything.

Bailey refused to believe he was dumb enough to actually fall for Danielle. It contradicted everything she knew about her father.

The instant their parents had walked in the house, Bailey sensed something was wrong. She’d quickly discovered the cause. Mom had invited Ted Reynolds to dinner. Oh, great. Based on what she’d heard from Beth, Bailey had suspected for a month or two that Ted was interested in their mother. The invitation had probably been a defensive move on Beth’s part; unfortunately, it’d sent the wrong message to Dad.

Now Bailey and Sophie were battling on two fronts. They certainly could’ve done without this additional complication.

“Look at them,” Sophie muttered as the sisters peeked out the door. Mom was still talking to Ted, with her back to Dad, who also had his back to her. If that wasn’t bad enough, Danielle chattered at their father like a noisy crow. Her parents couldn’t even look at each other. Communication, what little there was of it, had come to a complete standstill.

“This isn’t going to work.” Bailey felt like dumping the so-called Caesar salad over her parents’ heads. “We need to figure out what to do next.”

Sophie nodded. “We’ve got to think of something fast.”

“This divorce should never have happened,” Bailey moaned—not for the first time. If she or Sophie had guessed their parents were planning to split up, the girls would’ve stepped in much earlier. Now the situation was much more difficult, and there were other people involved. Now she and her sister were stuck cleaning up the mess.

Bailey shrugged. She brought the salad plates into the dining room and said, “Dinner’s ready if you’d like to sit down.” She did her best to sound cheerful and festive.

They took the chairs closest to where they stood. That put Danielle beside their father, and Ted and their mother across from them, leaving the two end chairs for Bailey and Sophie.

“Mom made the lasagna,” Bailey said, although everyone already knew that. Before she could mention Danielle’s role in their dinner, the other woman broke in.

“And I made the salad and the bread, which I’m sure you’ll find delicious.”

Both men smiled, apparently impressed with the woman who’d managed to spread garlic butter on a sliced baguette. From their admiring gazes, one would think Danielle was qualified to open her own restaurant.

Bailey wanted to point out that the lasagna had required a great deal more expertise than buttering bread. She opened her mouth, but before she could utter a word, she caught her mother’s look. Funny how much Mom could communicate in a single glance. Bailey snapped her mouth shut.

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