Cedar Cove Collection (Books 1-6). Debbie Macomber

I could have it.”

      “She did, did she?” Zach would talk to Rosie about that. He wasn’t forking over a couple of hundred bucks for a stupid toy. Wandering into the kitchen, he discovered that the coffee wasn’t on but his wife had taken a moment to jot him a note, which she’d propped up next to the automatic drip pot.

      Working until four at the Bazaar. Put up the outside lights, okay? Allison’s at a slumber party and will need a ride home. If you have a chance, would you buy the Christmas tree? See you later.

      Rosie

      His wife had forgotten to mention she’d be working at the bazaar. That was predictable enough. But he’d hoped that for once they’d have a day together without obligations or demands. It used to be that buying the Christmas tree was a family event; they’d go to the lot together and everyone had a say. Decorating it was fun, with music playing in the background and popcorn popping and hot cider. These days, getting and trimming the tree was an afterthought, a nuisance that had to be fitted into the cracks in Rosie’s overbooked schedule.

      “Can we go to McDonald’s for breakfast?” Eddie asked a second time.

      Zach didn’t answer him.

      “Dad?”

      “Sure,” he muttered, noting that there wasn’t any milk in the refrigerator. Not only had Rosie left him with a to-do list, but the house was devoid of groceries.

      Zach was furious all morning about his wife’s lack of attentiveness when it came to her family. He remembered what Janice Lamond had told him about the special Saturday she’d planned for her son. She was clearly the type of mother who made her child a priority.

      After breakfast at McDonald’s, Zach collected Allison from her friend’s place, and then, with Eddie’s help, tackled putting up the Christmas lights.

      “Are we going to buy our tree today?” Eddie asked while Zach stood on the ladder and attached the lights along the roofline of the house. He gazed down on his son, who was looking anxiously up at him.

      “Ask your sister if she wants to come,” Zach called.

      “Okay.” Eddie raced into the house. He wasn’t gone more than fifteen seconds. “Allison said she’ll come if she has to. We don’t need her, do we, Dad?”

      “Tell her we need her.”

      Eddie stared up at him, his face a picture of disbelief and disgust. Zach couldn’t keep from laughing. With a twinge of regret he realized it was the first time he’d smiled all day. It wasn’t his children’s fault that Rosie chose to spend her day with strangers rather than her own family. Once she was home, Zach intended to have a very long talk with his wife.

      Buying the Christmas tree proved to be one more annoying episode in a day that had started off badly and quickly gotten worse. By the time they returned to the house, the kids were bickering and hungry. When Zach pulled into the garage, he saw that Rosie’s car was there.

      “We got the tree, Mom,” Eddie announced as he rushed into the kitchen.

      “Hi,” Zach said, determined to put on a happy front until he had a private moment with his wife. “How was your day?”

      Rosie sat on the sofa with her feet up. “I’m exhausted. How did everything go at home?”

      “Great,” Eddie said. “Dad and I got the Christmas lights up. We went out to breakfast at McDonald’s and then we stopped at the store and bought milk.”

      “You got groceries?” Rosie asked, a look of relief in her eyes.

      “Just milk and bread.” Again it was Eddie who answered. “Dad thought we should make tomato soup and toasted cheese sandwiches for lunch, and we needed stuff for that.”

      “It sounds like you guys had a nice day.”

      “Are we going to decorate the tree tonight?” Allison asked, her expression bored.

      “Sure,” Zach said.

      “Not tonight, sweetheart,” Rosie answered simultaneously.

      Allison glanced from Zach to Rosie.

      “I’ve just spent nine hours on my feet,” Rosie said. “The last thing I want to do now is decorate a tree. We can do it tomorrow after church.”

      “I can’t,” Allison complained. “The French Club is having their bake sale in the mall, remember?”

      “Oh, right.” Rosie rubbed a hand over her eyes. “I’m not supposed to help with that, am I?”

      “Yes, Mom…” Their daughter sounded both hurt and provoked.

      “Okay, okay.”

      “What about dinner?” Zach asked.

      They’d already had pizza once that week and KFC another night. Zach realized this was an especially busy time of year, but it seemed important that they have at least one meal a week as a family.

      “Who wants what?” Rosie asked.

      “Pizza,” Eddie shouted.

      “I’m not hungry,” Allison insisted.

      Zach frowned.

      “I suppose you want meat loaf and mashed potatoes,” Rosie muttered just loudly enough for Zach to hear.

      “That’d be nice,” he said, and then added, “for once.”

      “Are we going to do the tree or not?” Allison asked, slouching on the sofa next to her mother.

      “Apparently not,” Zach said.

      “If that’s what your father wants.” Their voices mingled as, again, they spoke at the same time.

      Allison stood and headed toward the hallway. “You two work it out and when you’ve decided what you want to do, let me know. I’ll be in my room.”

      As if he, too, sensed that a fight was brewing, Eddie disappeared into his bedroom immediately afterward.

      The silence after they left was deafening.

      “You might’ve told me you planned to be gone all day,” Zach said, unable to hold back his resentment.

      “I did,” Rosie flared.

      “When?”

      “Monday night, remember?”

      “If I remembered, I wouldn’t be bringing it up now, would I?”

      Rosie propelled herself off the sofa and marched into the kitchen. “I don’t want to argue about it.”

      “Good, because I don’t want to argue, either. But I’m sick of this, Rosie.”

      “What is it with you?” she demanded, whirling around. “We can’t talk anymore.”

      “All I said was that I don’t remember you telling me you’d be gone all day.”

      “And I said—”

      “I know what you said.” He was fast losing his temper. “You might’ve reminded me.”

      “Why, so I could listen to you complain about it?”

      Ah, so that was it. She saw him as complaining. The finger had been pointed and it was aimed in his direction.

      “I’m making up a to-do list for you,” he snapped, grabbing a pen and paper. “First, we need groceries.”

      “You were at the store. You might’ve picked up more than milk and bread, you know.”

      “I work forty hours a week.”

      “And I don’t?” she shouted.

      “Look around you and answer that question for yourself. If you are employed, exactly who are you working for? Not your