Christmas 2011 Trio A. Кейт Хьюит

work it out. The problem wasn’t that she’d found him in bed with another woman or that he’d been abusive, physically or mentally. He wasn’t an addict or an alcoholic—just completely irresponsible and immature. She’d had enough, and in the end she’d walked away. Her failure to try again was one of the things that still haunted her.

      “Marybeth, I was asking you about Christmas,” her mother was saying.

      “Oh, sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

      “I noticed,” Joyce said sarcastically. “Your father and I thought that instead of the big fancy dinner we do every year, we’d have a potluck.”

      A potluck on Christmas Day? Beth didn’t like the sound of that, although she understood the reasoning. Her mother spent most of the day in the kitchen and that couldn’t be much fun for her. Beth decided she’d do her share without begrudging the time or expense.

      “Aren’t you going to complain?” her mother asked as if taken aback by her lack of response.

      “No. Actually I was thinking I’d bring the turkey and stuffing.”

      “You?”

      “I can cook.” Beth thought the question in her mother’s voice bordered on insulting.

      “Is that so?” Joyce Fischer asked. “When did you last eat anything that didn’t come from a pizza delivery place or the frozen food section at the grocery store?”

      Living alone, Beth didn’t have much reason to stand over a stove. Not when it was convenient and easy to order takeout or grab something from the deli. Her microwave got far more use than her stove.

      “Okay, okay, I’ll order a cooked turkey. We have to have turkey, Mom. It’s tradition.”

      “I’d like to begin a new tradition,” her mother said. “I want to enjoy the day with my grandkids—speaking of which, when can I expect more?”

      Beth was amused by the transition from dinner to her absent love life in one easy breath. “Probably never.”

      “Marybeth!” She seemed horrified at the prospect. “You’re a beautiful woman. You need to put your divorce behind you and move on with your life. You know John has, and more power to him.”

      Mentioning the fact that her ex-husband had remarried was a low blow.

      Lisa Carroll, a college friend of Beth’s—correction, acquaintance, and an unfriendly one at that—had gleefully shared the news of John’s marriage a couple of summers ago. Beth had taken it hard, although they’d been divorced for seven years by then. John was perfectly free to try his hand at married life a second time. She was happy for him. Thrilled, even.

      That was what she’d tried to tell herself, but it didn’t explain the depression she’d sunk into afterward. For weeks she was weepy and miserable. In the back of her mind, she’d held out hope that one day John would return to her. It was an utterly outlandish notion, wholly unrealistic.

      “I should never have told you John got married again,” she said, unable to disguise the pain of her mother’s words.

      “I’m sorry, dear. But you do need to move on. I was in church this week and I lit a candle for you. I asked God to send someone special into your life and I feel sure He’ll answer my prayer.”

      “You lit a candle on my behalf?”

      “I always do when I have a special prayer.”

      Beth rolled her eyes. “You asked God to send me a husband?” She couldn’t believe her mother would do this.

      “Don’t make it sound like I signed you up for a dating service.”

      “That’s not what I meant.”

      “Isn’t there anyone who interests you?” Joyce pleaded.

      The desperation in her mother’s voice made Beth uncomfortable. “Not really,” she murmured.

      “Someone at work?”

      “No.” Beth most emphatically did not want an office romance. She’d seen a couple of those go sour. After the last one, between a legal secretary and one of the partners, the law firm had set a policy against the practice of dating within the office. Which was fine with Beth, since she happened to enjoy her job and had no intention of risking dismissal.

      Her gaze drifted toward the computer screen. “Well, there’s someone I met recently….”

      “There is?” Hope flared instantly.

      You’d think Beth had just announced that she’d set her wedding date.

      “We met on WoW.”

      “That ridiculous game?”

      “Yes, Mom. I found out he lives in Seattle.”

      “What’s his name?”

      “Peter.”

      “Invite him to Christmas dinner,” Joyce said promptly. “I’ll do the full meal. Forget the potluck. I’ll entice him with my cooking—and I promise to teach you how. You know what they say about the way to a man’s heart.”

      “Mom!”

      “I used to be scornful of those old wives’ tales, too,” her mother continued undaunted, “but so many of them are true. Now, don’t worry, I’ll downplay the fact that you don’t cook. Leave everything to me.” Her mother didn’t even attempt to hide her delight.

      “Mother, no!” Good grief, for all she knew, Peter was married. She didn’t dare ask for fear he’d assume she was interested. All right, she was interested, but only because her mother had forced her into it.

      “You’ve got one week to ask him.”

      “Mother!”

      “I insist.”

      Beth closed her eyes and before she could protest further, Joyce disconnected the line. Sighing, Beth hung up the phone. It was either arrive on Christmas Day with a man or disappoint her mother. She sighed again as she recalled that Joyce had resorted to prayer in order to find her a husband.

      Beth loved her sister and she treasured little James and Bella, her nephew and niece, but Angela hadn’t done her any favors by marrying the exemplary Brian and then quickly producing two perfect grandchildren.

      Trying to forget her woes, she logged back on to the game and was pleased to see that her partner was still online. She joined Peter and soon afterward he sent her a message.

      How’d the conversation with your mother go?

      Okay. She wished she hadn’t mentioned that she’d be talking to her family. She was more concerned with what had happened while she was Away From the Keyboard. Did I miss anything exciting when I was AFK?

      Yeah. I teamed up with level 41 Dwarf Warrior and defeated the last two Warmongers to complete the Crush-ridge quest.

      Beth sat up straighter. Wow. Great going.

      You should’ve been here. I started pounding my chest.

      You Tarzan? she joked.

      Only if you’re Jane, came his reply.

      Beth read the line a second time. He almost seemed to be flirting with her. Nah, he was just teasing, which they often did, bantering back and forth and congratulating each other. It would be easy to misread his intentions, and she didn’t want to make more of this than warranted.

      When she didn’t respond to his comment, they returned to the game. Only later, when she’d logged off and headed for the shower, did Beth pause to reconsider.

      If Peter had been flirting, and that was a huge if, perhaps she should make an effort to learn more about him.

      Beth turned on the shower. These were the thoughts of a