Christmas Steele, A Lacy Steele Mystery Bonus Novella

by Vanessa Bartal

  Chapter 8

  Due to Lacy’s pity-induced insomnia, she slept late the following morning. Two notes were waiting for her on the kitchen table. One was from her parents, informing her they were spending the day with some high school friends. The other was from her grandmother, telling her that she and her grandfather were spending the day Christmas shopping.

  “Alone again, naturally,” Lacy said, her self-pity quickly rising to the surface once again. With effort, she tamped it back down. She would not wallow today; she would not spend the day on the couch, wearing her pajamas, eating prune cake and Christmas cookies. “The tree,” she said out loud. If she forced herself to go up in the attic and drag it down, then maybe the family could decorate it together once everyone arrived home. Maybe it would be a bonding experience for her mother and her grandfather. And maybe magical elves might spring from the fireplace and fill the stockings. No, she wouldn’t hope for the impossible; she would simply concentrate on the practical. Bringing the Christmas tree from the attic was definitely practical.

  She shuddered as she ate her cereal and stared at the attic opening. She had been afraid of her grandmother’s attic ever since she was a little girl. Her grandfather had always been the one to go up and retrieve anything that was needed. Lacy had stood at the bottom of the ladder, inhaling the scent of moth balls and mildew, shivering from the cool blast of air that always accompanied a winter trek to the storage space. Far from being curious about what might be up there, she had instead always harbored a secret phobia that she would somehow get locked inside. Since a ladder was needed to climb inside, the fear wasn’t reasonable, but then little girl fears never were.

  Now she was a grown woman who realized there was nothing to fear in the attic other than spiders, and she had plenty of fear of those. But Christmas was almost here, and the house was lonely without a tree. Today no spider could stop her, not even the furry kind that looked like a baby tarantula.

  After breakfast, she dressed in an old pair of sweats and tied her hair back, tucking it in a bun so no spiders could use it as a conveyance of getting to her body. She had probably imbued spiders with more menace and intelligence than they actually possessed, but just in case they were looking for ways to get to her, she wasn’t going to give them any openings. In that vein, she tucked her socks over her pants and pulled her sleeves low so they covered half her hands.

  She retrieved her grandfather’s ladder from the garage with a pang of longing. Lacy had only been twelve when he died, which wasn’t nearly enough time to get to know him properly, but she had loved him nonetheless, and been as close to him as she could be. Touching something that had once been his made her feel closer to him. She tried to channel his courage as she positioned the ladder and ascended, pushing hard on the heavy attic door.

  Unfortunately, straining against the door caused the ladder to begin to buckle. Belatedly, Lacy realized she hadn’t properly secured the hinges so it would stay open. The first hint of instability had caused it to fold in on itself. Lacy began to topple, leaping desperately toward the now-open attic. She caught the edge of the attic doorframe with both hands, heaving herself into the ceiling in a graceful move that was generally beyond her skills. Maybe emergencies made her athletic. Whatever the reason, she was thankful as she lay on the itchy insulation, breathing hard and trying to calm her frantic heartbeat. Then she remembered the spiders and jumped up again, almost landing between the rafters. She caught the overhead rafter and pulled her foot back, placing it on a beam instead of the thin plaster beneath the insulation.

  “Holy cow,” she exclaimed, standing still an instant as she once again tried to regain her equilibrium. This was why she had wanted Tosh to retrieve the tree for her, because there was more danger involved than just the spiders. Belatedly all of her father’s warnings about the attic came back to haunt her.

  Ladders are dangerous, Lacy. I don’t want you playing on them. The insulation isn’t good for you to breathe; you have to watch where you step or you could come crashing through the ceiling.

  “Why couldn’t you have remembered all that before you thought it was a good idea to come up here?” she chastised herself. Scanning the small space, she saw the cardboard box that contained the Christmas tree. It was resting on two rafters, and it looked large and heavy. “Great,” she muttered. “How am I ever going to get that down?”

  Since she was trapped, she might as well make her time worthwhile. She began picking her way across the room, being careful to only step on the rafters. At last she reached the tree and began arduously dragging it back toward the opening.

  After what seemed like forever, she was dusty, itchy, tired, and ready to be done with the attic. She had at last dragged the cumbersome tree to the attic’s edge, and now she faced the tricky problem of trying to get out. At least she had her cell phone, something she had absently tucked in her pocket before ascending the ladder. Now she pulled it out and crouched toward the opening, hoping for a better signal.

  Her grandparents didn’t have a cell phone, so she tried her parents and reached their voicemail. Next she tried Tosh, but there was no answer there, either. She left him a message and tried her last resort. Jason, of course, picked up on the first ring.

  “Are you working?” she asked.

  “What’s wrong?” he said.

  “Why does something have to be wrong?” she asked, peeved that his automatic assumption was that she was in a bind, which she was.

  “Because I know you and I can hear it in your voice. What is it?”

  “I’m stuck in the attic.”

  “You’re…how did you…never mind. I’m just getting off work. I’ll be over in a few. Is the door unlocked?”

  “I don’t know; if it’s not then you can use the key under the mat.”

  He sighed. “Would it do any good if I once again told you what a bad idea it is to keep a key under the mat?”

  “No,” she said.

  “Didn’t think so. Hold tight….You’re not literally holding tight, are you? Like dangling from a window sill or something?”

  “Of course not,” she said.

  “Okay. I’ll be there in a few.” They disconnected and she perched on the edge of the attic opening, her feet dangling through the hole. She didn’t hear Jason open the door, but she knew when he had at last arrived because he felt the need to stand underneath her and offer up commentary.

  “Sweet mercy, what happened?” he asked, peering up at her with a scowl.

  “The ladder fell,” she said, offended by his insinuation that this had somehow been her fault. “It could have happened to anyone,” she added.

  “Why did you go up there?”

  “The tree,” she said.

  He sighed as he set up the ladder. “Red, Red, Red. Just when I congratulate myself on surviving a boring night at work, you have to call and make my life interesting. What would I do without you?” he finished as his head popped through the opening, smiling at her.

  “Sleep?” she suggested, suddenly aware of her bedraggled appearance. He had been awake all night, and he still looked better than she did.

  “Sleep is overrated,” he said, reaching for her. “C’mon.”

  She backed out of his grasp. “The tree,” she said, pointing to the large box beside her. He sighed again, but reached for the large box and easily lifted it, dropping it gently through the hole.

  “Your turn,” he said, reaching for her once again.

  “Are you going to drop me like that?” she asked.

  “Depends on how long you keep me on this ladder.”

  She edged forward and gave him her hand. He backed down, keeping hold of her until she was safely on the ladder and then he let her go, easing down the ladder in front of her in case she fell. She was both appreciative and disheartened by his attentiveness. She wasn’t that accident prone; was she?

  They hopped off the ladder, facing each other. Jason smiled as he looked her up and down. “You’re a
mess, Red.”

  “Thanks for that,” she said. Insecurity apparently made her testy, but he looked like a page from a policeman’s calendar, and she looked like a chimney sweep.

  “I meant it in a good way,” he added.

  “Obviously,” she muttered, not believing him. It was bad enough that she was wearing ratty clothes without a stitch of makeup. Why did she have to be covered in grime and insulation, too? She began hedging away, but Jason made no move to leave. Instead he looked at the box on the floor.

  “You’re putting up the tree solo?”

  “Everyone else is away,” she explained. “I thought it might help get me in the Christmas mood.”

  “Maybe that’s what I’m missing,” he murmured, still staring absently at the tree.

  “You don’t have a tree?”

  Her question diverted his attention and she wondered if he hadn’t meant to start this conversation. “No, I’m not one for decorations,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.

  “You have to have a tree, Jason,” Lacy said.

  “No I don’t.”

  “Of course you do. A house with no tree is depressing.”

  “I’ll tell my house you said so.” He glanced at the door, but now Lacy was the one reluctant to let him go. For some reason the thought of him without a tree was painful to her. Not only was he alone and working, but he was treeless. It was just like Mr. Middleton had been all those years.

  “Stay and decorate our tree with me,” she begged, clasping his hand and giving it a squeeze.

  He looked down at their combined hands and smiled. She followed the line of his gaze and grimaced when she realized she had smudged him with dirt and insulation shavings.

  “Sorry,” she said, dropping his hand.

  He picked her hand up again and returned her earlier squeeze. “All right. I’ll stay. I can’t stand the thought of you decorating your family’s tree alone. Now that’s depressing.”

  “Do you mind if I shower first? I’m itchy.” True, she was itchy, but more than that she felt disgusting, especially in light of his absurd good looks. It wouldn’t hurt you to look like you’ve actually been awake all night, she wanted to add.

  He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Are you going to take a long time? Is this going to be one of those situations where you take three hours and I fall asleep on the couch waiting for you?”

  “I’ll be quick,” she promised.

  He let go her hand and pushed a button on his watch. “You have twenty minutes and then I’m coming to get you.” His smile turned wicked. “Take your time.”

  She hastened away, knowing he would be true to his word and come looking for her in exactly twenty minutes. Taking the world’s fastest shower, she still managed to wash her hair twice and shave her legs and armpits, though not without consequences. Her legs were so nicked and streaked with blood they looked like candy canes. She would have to forego drying her hair, but makeup was a necessity. She quickly applied powder, eye shadow and gloss and was just reaching for the mascara when the handle on the door turned. It was locked, but he would quickly pick it. She used the time it took for him to find a hanger to apply some mascara so that by the time he had the door open she—hopefully—looked like a different person.

  “You made it,” he said, sounding disappointed.

  She tossed her mascara back in her makeup bag and zipped it up. “What would you have done if you found me not ready?” she asked.

  He propped his shoulder against the doorframe. “That depends on how not ready you were,” he said. His tone was warm and flirtatious, and Lacy decided this was probably a road they shouldn’t go down, and especially not when she was still warm from the shower and they had a house to themselves.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  His answering smile acknowledged the fact that she was pointedly changing the subject. “I ate at work; it was a slow night, and I was hungry,” he explained, probably because he didn’t usually eat while he was working.

  “How did you work last night if you worked a double yesterday?” she asked.

  “I went home, slept for four hours, and went back to work for another four.”

  Lacy shook her head. “Not healthy, Jason. Please tell me you’re at least getting paid overtime for all this work.”

  “There’s no money for overtime,” he said.

  “Jason,” Lacy said, knowing it would do no good to tell him to slow down. For whatever reason, he felt like he had to give a hundred and ten percent all of the time.

  “You worried about me, Red?” he guessed.

  She nodded. “All the time.”

  “You’re the only one who does,” he added softly. They came to a stop beside the tree and she smiled up at him.

  “That’s okay; I worry enough for ten people.”

  “That must mean you think about me a lot,” he said, his tone turning cocky.

  “And the moment is over,” she said, settling her attention on the tree. She bent and began trying to struggle the behemoth free from its box. It was an old tree, sold before the newer, streamlined versions became available. But, heavy as it was, Lacy wouldn’t have it any other way. She had always loved her grandmother’s tree with it’s blue lights and old-fashioned decorations.

  Jason stood back, watching. “At what point are you going to admit defeat and ask for my help?”

  “At what point are you going to be a gentleman and offer?” she returned, peeved that she couldn’t get the tree out by herself. This was not her day for independence, apparently.

  Jason reached down and easily separated the tree from its box, smiling smugly at Lacy when she wrinkled her nose at him. “How does this thing go together?” he asked.

  “You have to find the matching colors. Only it’s so old that the colors are sort of rubbed off, so you have to guess a lot of the time.” She immersed herself fully in the tree, looking closely at the holes to try and tell what color they were supposed to be. “They all look gray,” she announced.

  “The biggest branches probably go at the bottom, don’t you think?” Jason asked as he began sorting branches.

  “Yes, but which ones are the biggest?” Lacy backed out of the tree and they studied the pile of branches on the floor. They all looked the same to her, but Jason must have possessed some keen instinct about what went where, because soon he had them sorted into piles and began handing them to her as she poked them into their assigned holes. In no time, the tree was assembled and they stood back to admire their handiwork.

  “Is that it?” Jason asked.

  “Is that it?” she echoed. “Jason, you have to have lights on a tree, and decorations, and tinsel and icicles.”

  “That sounds like a lot,” he said. “Doesn’t it get sort of crowded?”

  “Yes, but it’s grandma’s tree. Her tree is supposed to be crowded.”

  “Don’t you have a tree of your own?” he asked.

  She shook her head as she opened the closet and began pulling out boxes of Christmas decorations.

  “What did you do in New York?” he asked, sounding truly curious.

  “My roommate owned a tree, although she let me hang a few decorations on it. And then I helped with Robert’s tree.” She swallowed down the memory of decorating Robert’s tree. They’d had so much fun talking about their future as they decorated together.

  “What does Lacy’s dream tree look like?” Jason asked, moving her aside to carry the boxes to the tree.

  Lacy paused, staring thoughtfully at her grandmother’s tree without seeing it. “It’s real. I’ve never had a real tree, but I’ve always wanted one. And it’s huge—eight feet or taller. The lights are all white, and there’s no tinsel. Maybe there are some ribbons, and it’s more streamlined, less crowded.”

  “That sounds pretty,” he said.

  She wasn’t sure if he was sincere or if he was patronizing her, but the words still soothed her. “What was your tree like growing up?” she asked.

  He s
hrugged. “We didn’t really have one after my brother died. Christmas sort of lost its meaning after that.”

  She wanted to comfort him, but instinctively knew that he didn’t want to be comforted just then. He didn’t want pity, and so she wouldn’t pity him. “You can have a tree now, you know,” she informed him.

  He shrugged again. “Seems sort of pointless when I’m never home,” he said.

  “No, it’s definitely not pointless,” she argued. “I’ll show you what I’m talking about when we get this put together.” They worked in silence for a while, stringing lights and hanging decorations. Many of them were things that Lacy and Riley had made for their grandmother, and the sight of so many tangible memories was both painful and happy for her. At last they were finished. Jason shoved the tree box back into the attic and put away the ladder while Lacy tidied up the remainder of the boxes, stowing them back in the closet.

  When he returned from the garage, she had closed the blinds and turned off all the lights, save the tree. She patted the seat beside her on the couch, and he sat down.

  “This is why you need a Christmas tree,” she said softly. “Not because of the presents or the tradition, but because there is nothing better than sitting in a darkened room and staring at the soft glow of a decorated tree.”

  “I’ll give you this one,” he said. “This is nice. But does it work the same when you’re alone? Or is it nice because we’re here together?”

  Lacy had to think about that one. “It’s still nice. And when I sit alone and stare at the tree, it gives me hope that I won’t be alone forever, that someday I’ll find someone to share it with, someone who doesn’t dump me for my sister,” she added ruefully, causing Jason to chuckle.

  “Dare to dream big, Red. Is that your only requirement for lifelong love? That a man not dump you for your sister?”

  “Pretty much at this point, yes,” she answered. “What about you, Jason? What does your forever girl look like?”

  He bridged the gap between them, resting his hand on her leg. “You know, Red, some days she looks a whole lot like y—“

  “We’re home,” her mother announced, flipping on the lights as she stepped inside. “Why is it so dark in here? Oh, hello.” Her bright tone was a sharp contrast to the heavy tension in the room, but of course she didn’t notice. “Are you my mother’s pastor?” Then, stepping forward, she noticed his uniform. “Lacy, what’s going on?”

  Lacy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Did her mother actually think Lacy was in trouble with the law? Yet her fearful tone hinted at such. “Mom, do you remember Jason Cantor?”

  Frannie blinked in confusion, either because she didn’t remember Jason or she did and had no idea what he was doing with Lacy. They hadn’t exactly been in the same social strata in high school. “Why, yes, I believe so. You were the quarterback when Lacy was in school, weren’t you?”

  “I was,” Jason said, standing and extending his hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Steele.”

  “You, too,” Lacy’s mother said, though she still sounded confused. Lacy could almost hear her mental gears turning, and she dreaded the coming conversation.

  “I should probably go,” Jason said.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Lacy said, delaying the inevitable questions from her mother. She trotted behind Jason, so close behind that she smacked into him when he stopped to open the door.

  “Wow, you really don’t want to have to explain to your mother what I was doing here,” Jason said.

  “Less than anything in the world,” Lacy said, closing the door and leaning against it for support. Then, plastering on a bright smile, she looked up at Jason. “Thanks for helping me decorate the tree, Jason. I had a lot of fun.” Oh, and what was it you were saying before we were so rudely interrupted? Something about lifelong love? And, while we’re at it, who is the mysterious blond? And did you buy me a necklace for Christmas?

  “It was fun,” he said, his tone wary. “What’s up with you?”

  Lacy had to get an answer to at least one of her questions. She chose the one that was least humiliating to put forth. “This is a weird question, but have you already bought my Christmas present?”

  “Yes,” he drawled. “Why?”

  She shrugged, not knowing how to continue once she had started. “Oh, you know, just wondering and stuff.” Awesome answer, Lacy.

  Jason’s smile was wry. “You’re acting weird, even for you.” He leaned down to bestow a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll see you.”

  “See you,” she called lamely, staring at him as he jogged to his truck. It wasn’t that she wanted to kiss him every time she saw him. No, scratch that, she did want to kiss him every time she saw him. But common sense told her it wasn’t healthy for their friendship to dwell on their attraction to each other. Still, the sisterly kisses on the cheek the last couple of times they parted had left her feeling suspicious. Was his sudden lack of interest in her due to his interest in the mystery blond?

  “Get a grip, Lacy,” she told herself just as her phone rang. By the tone, she knew it was Tosh. “Hello?”

  “You left me a cryptic message about a falling ladder,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I was stuck in the attic, but I’m out now. Crisis averted.”

  “How did you get out?” Was it her imagination, or was his tone suspicious?

  “Jason. He was the only one I could reach.”

  Tosh sighed. “I knew no good could come of my counseling session today. Sorry I wasn’t there for you, and sorry I’m seemingly never there for you. I miss you. After Christmas, can we catch up? What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?”

  “Not a thing,” Lacy said, staring wistfully in the direction Jason had gone.

  “Is it too early to claim you?”

  “Claim away,” Lacy said. “What are we going to do?”

  “It’s a surprise,” Tosh replied.

  “You haven’t thought of anything yet, huh?” she asked.

  “No, but I will,” he promised. “And it will be epic. Prepare to be impressed.”

  “I’ll begin preparing immediately,” she promised. “Have fun tonight whatever you’re doing.”

  “I will,” he said, then, after a pause, “Your feelings aren’t hurt that I’m not taking you along on these shindigs, are they? Because you said we’re not dating, and you know the type of gossip it would cause if you suddenly started showing up everywhere as my party date, especially because they’re mostly old people, and you know how old people talk.”

  “Tosh,” she said when she could get a word in edgewise. “Of course my feelings are hurt. I hate you forever, and our friendship is finished. That’s why I called you from the attic today, to tell you how wounded I am that you’re not dragging me along to all your senior citizen events.”

  “Ha, ha,” he said, sounding relieved. “Point taken. Fine, you’re not upset with me, and we’re spending New Year’s together. This is turning out to be a productive conversation. Maybe we should take a stab at ending world hunger while I have you on the line.”

  “Sorry, I’ve got to go give myself a manicure,” she said.

  “There’s that depth I love and admire. See you soon, I hope.”

  “See you, Tosh. Have fun with your old people.”

  “That sounds so wrong when you say it,” he said. “Later, Lacy.” She hung up and tucked the phone back in her pocket, smiling until she stepped inside and faced her mother.