Mistletoe Over Manhattan

Scanning the rest of the list, she zeroed in on 'condoms.'

She erased it so violently that the top section of her stylus popped off and landed on another table in somebody else's oatmeal.

Carter heard the sound of a vacuum cleaner and speeded up the dressing process. When he'd pulled himself together, he warily stuck his head out into the sitting room. Not seeing Mallory anywhere, he came out more confidently. 'I'm through in there,' he told the housekeeper, who was dragging the vacuum cleaner out of Mallory's room. After giving the woman a wave, he stepped outside the suite.

The housekeeper had set a bag of trash just outside the door. Even Mallory's trash was neat. On top lay a book. Carter swiveled his head to read the title. Efficient Travel by Ellen Trent. Trent? A relative of Mallory's?

He picked it up. Stealing trash. That's what he'd sunk to. Inside was a note that began, 'Dearest daughter.' Ellen Trent was Mallory's mother?

He took the book with him and went out into the snow, slogging along in search of one of those bookstores with a cafe where he could settle in with coffee and something unhealthy like a cinnamon roll. He had some reading to do.

'Richard?'

'Yes, Mr. Wright. Or I suppose I can call you Mr. Compton now.'

'Sure, sure,' Carter said into his cell. 'Call me whatever you want to. I just wanted to confirm my three o'clock appointment today.'

'Oh, dear,' Richard said, 'Maybelle thought you were too mad at her to want to see her again, so she gave the president a double appointment so they could go more deeply into-'

'The president?' Carter said.

'Not our president,' Richard explained. 'Another president. Anyway, she can't see you at three, but she could see you at six.'

'Fine. I'll be there. Get my bill ready, okay?'

He got up from the spot he'd barely moved from since the cafe opened this morning. He'd only risen to refresh his food and beverage supply and track down a couple more Ellen Trent books. He felt cross-eyed from speed- reading and dizzy from carbohydrate overload.

And overwhelmed with insight.

He knew what was wrong with Mallory. Her mother was insane, that's what. That stuff about checking the expiration dates of everything in your house before you left on a trip-psychotic, in his opinion. No dirty laundry. When did you ever have no dirty laundry?

He felt newly sympathetic toward Mallory for growing up with an insane mother who'd taught her to be an automaton instead of warm and womanly.

He'd realized something else as well. Mallory had become warm and womanly. She'd given up most of the routines she'd been brainwashed into performing in order to make love with him. They'd eaten in bed, trashed the room, and he knew for a fact she hadn't cleaned off every scrap of her makeup, brushed her hair one hundred times and hand-washed her unmentionables every night before going to bed. He hadn't given her time. She'd bought those sexy clothes to snag him, yes, but she'd changed in other ways, too.

Was it possible she actually cared about him, or was her behavior an act of rebellion toward her insane mother, and he'd just been a convenient excuse to lose her inhibitions?

That was what he intended to talk over with Maybelle.

He had time to spare. Too much time. Aimlessly strolling along a newly cleared sidewalk, he caught sight of Bloomingdale's to the east and remembered the dress he'd spotted from the escalator on that first trip to the store to buy socks. When he'd suddenly wanted to kiss her. When his life had changed forever.

His pace quickened.

The darkness was thick and heavy at six o'clock. Muted street lights, tasteful Christmas displays and menorahs displaying two lighted candles shone through the tall windows of the town houses on the street, illuminating the deep snow and the flakes still falling from above. Mallory had her hand on Maybelle's new doorknocker when she heard footsteps on the sidewalk and spun to see Carter standing there, hesitating.

Without exchanging a word, he turned on one heel and started off to the east and she ran down the walkway and took off to the west. Maybelle tackled her at the corner, and when the dust cleared, she saw Richard propelling Carter back toward the mansion.

'You two,' Maybelle scolded, 'are gonna sit down and talk whether you want to or not. Kevvie,' she screamed, 'get that there door open before they get away!'

Mallory let herself be steered into Maybelle's office. Carter was digging in his heels, looking as if he'd like to take out Richard by slamming Kevin into his gut, not that he'd do something like that, but he looked furious enough to think about it. Two chairs sat in front of Maybelle's desk-a new and extremely conservative desk-and when their captors had deposited her and Carter into them, Maybelle sat down, flanked by Kevin and Richard, who were rocking from foot to foot, their hands clasped behind their backs, like bodyguards.

If nothing else, it was dramatic.

'What are you doing here, Kevin?' Carter was the first to speak.

Kevin relaxed his pose into a slump of despair. 'I'm here because I feel as if I started all this,' he said mournfully, gazing at Mallory, 'by giving you Maybelle's card instead of just sticking to my ho-ho-hos.'

'Naw, y'all was just lookin' after my bidness interests,' Maybelle said. 'I was the one started it by tawkin' her into sexy clothes and stuff instead of telling her just to let her insides show on the outside. I sent that there tree hopin' it'd warm her up a little-'

'You sent the tree?' Mallory and Carter spoke in chorus. She darted a glance at him, saw he'd sent one toward her and quickly looked away.

Richard spoke up. 'Well, I didn't start anything but coffee, which is what I'm going to do again. Now. Every conceivable kind of coffee,' he snapped. 'No need for custom orders.'

'Bill actually started it,' Mallory said with a stab of remembrance, 'by appointing me to the case, but he's not to blame for anything. I am.' She sighed and wrung her hands together. 'I started it by deciding to catch Carter, make him see me as a woman, because-'

'I started it,' Carter said abruptly.

Mallory swiveled her head to stare at him.

'I asked Bill to appoint you to the case.'

From the distance came the whir of a coffee grinder, but Mallory's gasp was the only sound in the room.

'Why?' she said finally.

The gaze from his dark blue eyes was full of pain as it locked with hers. 'Because I trusted you, for one thing. But the other thing, well, I wanted to show you I'd grown up. Prove to you I was a good lawyer. No, a great lawyer. A man you could respect.'

'But I've always respected you,' Mallory whispered. 'All those years ago, I respected you for not giving up. You were always so smart, smart in ways I wasn't. But nobody ever expected good grades out of you, so you'd never learned to study. That's all I did for you, really, was show you that you could succeed.'

'Whoa,' Maybelle said. 'Minute ago Mallory was about to say why she wanted you to see her as a woman. So. Why?'

Under Maybelle's compelling stare Mallory knew the moment of truth had arrived. 'Because I think, even way back then in law school, that's what I really wanted.'

'You did a great job of hiding it,' Carter said suddenly. His voice was a fierce growl.

'I know.' She tried to shrink her voice, tried to pretend she was hardly there. 'I was afraid you'd reject me. Every woman I knew wanted you. Why would you ever choose me?' She sneaked a peek at him. The fierceness was fading from his expression, which gave her the courage to add, 'All I meant to do here in New York was, well, stop hiding it.'

'An', Carter,' Maybelle went on inexorably as if the tension in the room wasn't already close to explosive, 'why'd y'all care what Mallory thought of you?'

'I guess it had always been a sore point thinking she saw me as a dumb jock who couldn't have made it through law school without her,' he mumbled. Now his eyes were downcast.

'But why was it a sore point? Come on, Carter, am I gonna have to get out my sledgehammer?' Maybelle's