CHAPTER SIX
For as soundly as Lindy had slept Friday night, she tossed and turned on Saturday. The terrible Christmas Billy had had that fateful year kept running though her mind. It was beyond ridiculous to believe her letter had anything to do with what had happened to him and his family. As illogical as it was to assume she was somehow responsible, Lindy couldn’t stop thinking about all the ten-year-old had suffered. A child his age couldn’t possibly understand what had happened to his father, or why he had left.
When Lindy finally managed to fall asleep, her dreams were filled with Billy Kincade and her as children. She spitefully complained to Santa about him, and in turn Santa promised to make Billy’s life miserable. Lindy woke in a sweat when her mother knocked on her bedroom door.
“Are you awake?” her mother asked, opening the door and peeking inside.
“Yes.” Lindy sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She was wide awake now, and grateful for the interruption to her nightmare.
“It’s time to get ready for church,” her mother told her.
“I thought church was at eleven.” That had been the traditional time for worship service for as long as she could remember.
“Pastor added an early service, which we prefer. Your dad said Pastor Dean can’t go overtime when he’s got another service following on the heels of the first.”
“Okay, early service it is,” Lindy said, and tossed aside the bedcovers.
“I forgot to tell you about the schedule change yesterday. Then Dad and I were asleep when you arrived home last night. Hope you had a good time with Peggy and her friends.”
“The best.” After they’d left the Wine Press, Peggy invited Lindy to hang out at her apartment for several hours. It’d been well after midnight before she arrived back home. Renewing their friendship was exactly the boost her Christmas spirit needed. They laughed about old times, and, after reviewing more of their escapades, decided it was probably a good thing Peggy had moved away when she did. Only heaven knew the trouble they would have inspired had they continued on through middle and high school.
After coffee and a quick shower, Lindy was ready to leave for church with her parents.
As she walked out of the house, she noticed a bowl of sourdough pancake batter on the kitchen counter. Her dad had set it up the night before, the same as he’d done when she lived at home. Sourdough rolls and now pancakes. Lindy loved being home.
Church was exactly what she needed to lift her out of the blue funk following her dream. Seeing people she’d known most of her life lifted her spirits, as did singing the traditional Christmas carols. This was the last service before the traditional Christmas Eve candlelight one. Pastor Dean’s message was on forgiveness and the necessity of letting go of petty hurts, which was exactly what Lindy needed to hear. Closing her eyes, she released Celeste and Brian, and although it was difficult, she wished them happiness.
After church, as her dad delivered steaming hotcakes to the middle of the table, Lindy eagerly piled four small ones onto her plate and ladled warm maple syrup over the top until the sticky goodness pooled there. Beau took his place beneath the table, hoping someone would be kind enough to share their bacon. Lindy knew her mother had a soft spot for Beau and watched as Ellen slipped him a piece when Lindy’s dad wasn’t looking.
“How was the food at the Wine Press?” her mother asked. “Dad and I have been meaning to make a reservation, but we haven’t had a chance to just yet.”
Lindy knew how busy her father was this time of year, so the fact that they hadn’t been out often came as no surprise. “The appetizers were great, and the wine selection was diverse in both variety and price.” Seeing how busy the restaurant was, there was no doubt it would be a success. “There was only one negative to the night.”
“Oh? Wasn’t the service good?”
“It was excellent. I happened to meet the owner/manager, and you’ll never guess who it is.”
“I won’t even try. Tell me.”
“Billy Kincade.”
“Billy Kincade?” her mother repeated, as if she were as shocked as Lindy had been to hear the name. “Not the same Billy you mentioned in your letter to Santa?”
“One and the same. When I recognized his name, I was foolish enough to mention that silly letter. Then, before I could stop her, Peggy asked if Billy would come to our table…” She paused before continuing to relay what she’d learned about that horrible Christmas.
“You make it sound like his father deserting the family was your fault,” her dad said, helping himself to another stack of his much-loved hotcakes.
“I do feel that way, and before you say anything, I know that’s ridiculous. I could barely sleep last night, and when I did, I had nightmares.”
“Billy wasn’t upset when you told him about the letter, was he?”
“Heavens, no. What troubled me was when he talked about that Christmas. His eyes grew sad, as if it was one of the worst times of his life.”
Her mother grew still and quiet. “You should bake him cookies,” she suggested, as if cookies would absolve Lindy of any residual guilt.
“Mom, I don’t think Christmas cookies are going to help.”
Her dad shook his head. “Don’t discount your mother’s gingerbread cookies, Sweet Pea.”
Lindy was amused and thoughtfully mulled over her mother’s idea. Her grandmother’s recipe for gingerbread cookies wasn’t going to remove the pain she recognized in Billy. She knew that, but at the same time, it was something she could do. A small kindness. She didn’t have any plans for the afternoon. Later that evening, Peggy suggested they get together again, possibly take in a movie. Lindy was eager to spend more time with her long-lost friend and had agreed.
—
It was gratifying how quickly Lindy had connected with her friend. It felt like old times. Returning to Peggy’s following the movie, they shared wine and confidences. Lindy found it easy to tell Peggy about the situation with her job and her determination to succeed in Seattle. She’d always been driven, but rarely more so than she was with Media Blast. Almost from the first day she’d felt like an outsider. It wasn’t until after the first month that she’d learned Laurie, who’d been with the company five years, had also applied for the position. Instead, Media Blast went with Lindy. Feeling their colleague had been cheated, the rest of the team resented Lindy. As a result, Lindy felt the pressing need to prove herself and her qualifications at every turn. After another glass of wine, she spilled the dirt about Celeste and Brian.
Lindy learned Peggy had endured her own heartache. She’d been married then divorced when her alcoholic husband had run up thousands of dollars of debt and then split town, leaving Peggy to deal with the creditors. It had taken her years to pay everything off.
—
Monday afternoon, just after the Wine Press opened, Lindy arrived with a large plate of gingerbread cookies she’d baked on Sunday. When she’d mentioned what she intended to do, Peggy had agreed with her mother and said it would be a nice gesture. Besides, Billy, with his strong jaw and muscular shoulders, was handsome enough to be on the cover of a romance novel. Peggy seemed to think Billy might still have a thing for Lindy and joked that he might be tempted to chase her the way he’d done when she was in grade school. If that was the case, Lindy was half tempted to let him catch her.
Nice gesture or not, once she arrived at the restaurant, she was nervous. The hostess, a young, attractive woman in her early twenties, greeted her with a welcoming smile. “A table for one?” she asked.
“Actually, I’m here to see Billy Kincade. Is he available?”
“Do you mean Will?”
“I knew him as Billy, but yes, I suppose he goes by Will these days.”
“Can I tell him who’s asking?”
“Of course. I’m Lindy Carmichael. We’re…old friends.” That was a stretch, but it sounded good. She smiled, hoping it made her look believable.
“If you’ll wait here, I’ll see if Mr. Kincade is available.”
“Thank you.” The short exchange didn’t ease any of Lindy’s nervousness. For half a second, she was tempted to leave. It would be mortifying if Billy refused to see her, once he learned it was her.
She was both relieved and tense when the hostess returned with Billy. He glanced at the plate in her hand and raised his brows in question.
“Lindy?” he said, as if he didn’t understand what had prompted her visit. “What can I do for you?”
Thrusting out the plate, she was embarrassed that the hostess was listening in on their conversation. It was bad enough that Billy looked frazzled and impatient. “I baked cookies, because I wanted to apologize,” she said, eager to have him take her guilt offering so she could leave.
“Apologize?” he asked, “Whatever for?” He didn’t take the plate.
Not wanting anyone to overhear, she leaned forward and whispered, “That letter to Santa.”
Billy’s face broke into a huge smile. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Well, actually, no.”
“Come on back to the office. I could use a break. And bring those cookies with you.”
He started across the restaurant, leaving her to follow, which she did. His office was compact, and she could see that he’d been sitting at his computer. He brought in another chair and briefly left her.
When he returned, he carried two coffee mugs and they sat across his desk from each other. Glancing appreciatively at the gingerbread cookies, Billy peeled back the cellophane and reached for one. “This wasn’t necessary, but it’s appreciated. It just so happens gingerbread cookies are my favorite. It’s been years since I had homemade ones.”
“Grandma’s recipe never fails.” She ate one herself.
“You can rat me out to Santa every year if it means you’ll bake me cookies,” he teased.
His humor relaxed her. “You’ve done a wonderful job with the Wine Press,” she said, looking to keep the conversation flowing. “It’s clearly a success.”
“It might be even more of one, if I could get this website up and running.” He glared at his computer, as if to blame the machine for his troubles.
“You’re doing it yourself?”
“Yeah. You won’t believe what those web designers want to charge me.”
Lindy hid a smile. “How’s designing it yourself working for you?”
“It’s not. I thought if I read a couple books, I should be able to set up a useable web page on WordPress. I mean, how hard could it be? Well, I found out it isn’t as easy as it sounds.”
“Would you mind if I took a look at what you’ve done thus far?”
He hesitated. “You want to what?”
“Billy, I design websites for a living. Ever heard of Media Blast?”
He nodded. “They are the top Seattle Web marketing company. I didn’t even ask for a quote, because I knew they’d be way out of my price range.”
“I work for them. I’d be happy to look at what you have and advise you,” she offered, grateful for the opportunity to do more than bake him cookies.
“Before you do, I need to know your fees.”
“You’re in luck,” she said brightly, eager to get started. “The price is more than reasonable. I’ll do it for free.”
He shook his head. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Fine, how about a gift certificate for dinner and wine for my parents for Christmas?”
“Done.” He quickly vacated his chair and set her up in front of his computer.
It didn’t take long for Lindy to assess the work he’d completed and she could see it would require only minor graphic changes but quite a bit of back-end work. He left her and returned later, pacing as he glanced over her shoulder. It didn’t take him long to recognize Lindy knew what she was doing. She showed him a few easy tricks and went back to work.
“Do you need anything?” he asked, when he returned later.
Lindy could hear the chatter from the lunch crowd that filled the restaurant. “I’m good, thanks.” She didn’t move her eyes off the monitor as she worked. It was sometime later that she noticed Billy had delivered a sandwich. Involved as she was, she ate half, hardly aware of what she tasted.
Billy moved in and out of his office several times. He asked how she was doing, and left when she waved him away, promising she was doing fine and didn’t need anything. Lindy was in her element.
Her mother phoned to ask if Lindy planned to be home for dinner. Seeing that it was after five, she was shocked to realize how long she’d been working. “Save me a plate. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be,” she said, after explaining where she was and what she was doing. Other than potty breaks and a couple of times when she stood to stretch, she was intent on her work.
At seven, Billy insisted she stop. “I’m almost finished,” she objected.
“Tomorrow is soon enough.”
Although she didn’t want to quit, he was right. Her eyes burned from staring at the monitor so long, and her back had started to ache.
“Come with me,” Billy said, and scooted the roller chair away from the desk before she could complain.
“Where are we going?” She stood, bent over, and touched her toes to loosen the muscles in her back.
“You ask too many questions.” Billy reached for her hand, entwining their fingers. Without answering her, he led her through the kitchen to the far side of the restaurant and into a private dining room. The small round table was draped in a white linen cloth with a ring of holly around a burning candle in the center. A bottle of wine, two glasses, and dinnerware were artfully arranged.
Billy pulled out the chair, silently inviting Lindy to take a seat. Soon after he was seated, two salad plates were delivered by the same server who had taken care of Lindy and her newfound friends on Saturday night.
“What is this?” she asked, leaning close enough to the table for her stomach to press against the edge.
“It’s the house salad,” Billy said, as if it should be obvious.
“I mean this?” She swung her arm out to indicate the room. “You’re feeding me dinner?”
He flashed her a boyish grin. “It’s the least I can do, Lindy. You’ve been working on that design for hours.”
“But dinner in a private dining room?”
He glanced around, as if the two of them alone came as a surprise. “So it seems.”
Lindy felt like royalty. “Wow. You should know I enjoy my work. This has been fun for me.”
“I appreciate your help more than I can say.”
“So, tell me, how long have you been in the restaurant business?” Lindy asked. She couldn’t help being curious.
“From the time I was sixteen.” Billy leaned forward as he spoke, his gaze warming as he continued. “I started out as a dishwasher for a friend of my grandfather’s who owned a diner in Yakima. Eventually I worked my way up, doing every job there was in the kitchen. Earl, my grandfather’s friend, taught me nearly all there was to know about the ins and outs of restaurant ownership. I’ll be forever grateful to him for mentoring me. I’ve had other mentors through the years and am grateful for the time they put into teaching me what I would need to know. Earl is the one I owe the most. What about you? How is it you ended up in website design?”
Lindy had always been good with math and science, and that led her to a degree in computer science. The website design and the graphics came about later as she continued her studies. She’d been drawn into the creative part of designing websites, which led her to her job with Media Blast. Without going into a lot of detail, she casually described her work.
“You genuinely love it, don’t you?”
“I do,” she said. “And if my ideas are chosen on a current project, I will have proved my worth to the rest of the team.”
He frowned. “You need to prove your worth?”
“I got hired over someone who’d been with the company several years and expected the position to be hers. She and the rest of the team haven’t taken kindly to me.” What she didn’t mention was the extra hours she’d put in, the weekends she’d gone into the office, all in an effort to prove that management had made the right choice in hiring her.
“I have to admire your tenacity,” Billy said.
“Media Blast is where I’ve always wanted to work. No way was I going to let a few disgruntled people drive me away.”
“Good for you.” Lindy didn’t mean for the conversation to revolve around her. She wanted to know more about Billy.
“It’s fun, running into you, especially after Mom showed me those old letters to Santa.”
“You mean to say you’d forgotten me?”
“Not forgotten. Let’s just say you slipped my mind.”
“I’m here now, Lindy, and happy to see you.”
The intensity of his words and the way he looked at her caused her to blush. “Thanks, Billy. It’s good to connect with you, too.”
Rarely had Lindy enjoyed a dinner more. The conversation flowed easily from one subject to the next. From their work to updating each other about their families.
“You say you’re in town for the next two weeks?” Billy asked. “I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together. How would you feel about getting together again? It might be at odd hours, though. The restaurant is my first priority. I’m hoping you won’t mind working around that. Would you be willing?”
“That sounds great.” Two weeks of letting go and having fun. No way was she turning down this opportunity.
“How would you feel about a trip to Leavenworth?”
“It sounds perfect,” she said.
It really did.