Coming Home for Christmas by Fern Michaels Page A

budget, stringent as it was, had ceased to exist months and months ago. Her credit cards were maxed out. She lived day to day.
    She’d wigged out. How cool was that? More tears flowed. Ben was going to pitch a fit when Hank told him what she’d done. Chloe licked at her tears. God, how she ached to hold her sons.
    Coming here to her friend’s small apartment had seemed like the answer to all her problems. She’d gotten the idea when her best friend in Apple Valley, a first-grade teacher named Marie, had said she was going home to Seattle for the holidays. She’d given her the key and asked her to check on Chloe from time to time.
    Her intention was to veg out, to fall back and regroup. To take bubble baths, to eat when and if she felt like it, to drink wine while she was soaking in a tub, and to sleep peacefully through the night with no interruptions. It hadn’t happened that way at all. She was lucky if she slept two hours a night, and what sleep she got was fitful. There was no bathtub to luxuriate in, only a stall shower. She didn’t have money for wine, and Marie didn’t have cable television. She, too, lived on a budget.
    The only thing she proved to herself was that she was an unfit mother. A slacker as a wife. She wasn’t Supermom, and she never would be. That title would have to go to someone else, someone a lot more worthy than she.
    Did the twins miss her? Probably not. Churchill hated her, so there was no point in even asking herself if the big golden retriever missed her. He probably hoped she never came back. The tears flowed again. She looked like a witch with the dark circles under her eyes. Her hair needed to be cut and styled.
    Alice’s wild pacing led her to the bathroom and the huge mirror on the back of the door. Well, if nothing else, she’d shed a few pounds.
    What did Hank think about what she’d done? How was he coping? She wished she knew what he’d told Ben. Ben was going to be so disappointed in her.
    Alice splashed cold water on her face, combed her hair, smoothed down the sweat suit she’d arrived in, and tidied the apartment. She made sure Chloe had bowls of food and water not only in the bathroom but the kitchenette, too. She cleaned the two litter boxes and put in fresh litter. She set the thermostat to seventy and sat down to drink her fifth cup of coffee. She didn’t need this fifth cup of coffee. She was killing time, and she knew it. She’d made a mess of things, and now it was time to stand up and take the blame for what she’d done. She started to cry again. Like tears were really going to help her out.
    It was totally dark now. Christmas Eve. It had always been the happiest time of the year, at least for her. Ben, too. How often they talked about how perfect life was here in Apple Valley. Especially at Christmastime. And she’d ruined it all. Her. No one else. She’d single-handedly ruined everything for everyone with her stupid actions. How in the name of God was she ever going to make this right?
    By going home, a voice inside her head whispered, You go back, you stand tall, you apologize and get your life back. After . . . after she hugged and kissed her two little boys. She had to apologize to them, too, not that they would understand, but she’d do it anyway.
    Still, she didn’t move. Because . . . because she was a coward.
    Alice stood up, drained her coffee, then washed out the cup and cleaned the coffeepot. She took one last look around the tiny apartment, checked on Chloe one last time by giving her a hug before she settled her in her little bed next to the sofa. She turned out all the lights, put on her heavy down jacket, and left the apartment.
    Outside, Alice hunkered into her jacket as she made the long trek back to her house. There was little traffic, the citizenry of Apple Valley were secure in their houses, building fires, having dinner, and getting ready for the big man in the red