All They Want for Christmas

by M. K. Stelmack

  Bridget joined Isabella in her task. She didn’t know how to explain in simple terms, so she opted to speak slowly and hope Isabella could sort out the correct meaning. “Having rights means you are important to everyone. No law says he needs to buy you Christmas presents, but he is. So I guess he’s doing it because he—”

  “Don’t say ‘love’!” Isabella scrunched her face.

  Bridget had intended to flip out with “thinks you’re pretty cute.” But the sharp denial piqued her interest. “Okay.”

  “He does not need to love me,” Isabella said. “And I do not need to love him.”

  “He knows that,” Bridget said softly.

  “Sofia wants to love him,” Isabella said. “She said, ‘Can I love him?’ I told her I will think about it.”

  “I don’t know,” Bridget said, “that you can tell someone who they can love and not love.”

  “I can tell Sofia,” Isabella said confidently. “If I do not, she loves everybody.”

  “Isn’t it the season to love everybody?” Bridget said. She understood where Isabella was coming from, but she was interested in hearing Isabella’s take.

  “Sofia’s too young to love everybody. Not even I can,” Isabella said. “Not like you.”

  “Me?” Bridget said. “What makes you think I love everybody?”

  “You love everybody in this town because you made all the crates.”

  “You’re helping, so you must love everybody, too.”

  “It was your idea. The love comes from you,” Isabella argued right back. “And you love your family and me and Sofia and Jack-pa.”

  “I didn’t say I loved Jack-pa!”

  Isabella fixed Bridget with a steady gaze, and Bridget wondered with unease if the girl had happened to overhear Jack and her exchanging a very attentive good-night to each other last night. Bridget had come to believe that Jack had forgotten about the kiss she’d promised him, but when they’d gotten into the house, their outerwear off, he’d pulled her into his arms, sunk his hands into her hair and claimed his reward. She had paid back several times over, thoroughly and perhaps not as quietly as she could have.

  “But if you did,” Isabella said in a way that showed she’d spent time thinking this matter through, “you can be Bridgie-ma. I told Sofia she can call you that, if you say it is okay. Is it okay?”

  She had the same expectant look as Sofia often had. Bridget desperately wished she and Jack would show up.

  “Oh,” she began, the single breathy syllable calming her. “Oh. I am Bridgie, that’s for sure, but I think the second part—the ‘ma’—would be for whoever married Jack-pa.”

  “Okay,” Isabella said, “I tell her to wait until you and Jack-pa are married.”

  Bridget’s phone rang.

  It was Tanya, and she wasted no time in getting to the point, her voice slow and firm. “Our records show you are moving into your third month missing payments on your residence.”

  “No, no. I specifically came in last month with payments,” Bridget said, moving quickly out of Isabella’s earshot past the clamor of the kitchen to the back office. “Don’t your records show that?”

  “On the restaurant you made a full one. On the residence, you made a payment but that applies to your first missed payment, so once again we’re into your third delinquent month,” Tanya said, her voice lowering as if ears on her end were pressed against the wall. “I mentioned how your account has already been flagged. There’s nothing I can do to stop the process.”

  “Just to be clear,” Bridget said. “Foreclosure.”

  “Yes.”

  “I see. What do I owe you?”

  The amount, again delivered like a terminal prognosis, winded Bridget. She and Jack didn’t have the money.

  “When do you need it by?”

  “The latest payment was due at the beginning of the month. The amount is due immediately, I’m afraid. I’d like to see it on Monday first thing and get it into the system.”

  She could hear Sofia’s excited chirping and Jack’s calmer voice at the back door above the din of Mano and his family crew. “Thank you for the call, Tanya. I’ll be there,” Bridget said quickly.

  She slipped her phone into her pocket and met Jack and Sofia at the office door. “How’d it go?” Bridget asked, as they stepped into the narrow hallway.

  “Brilliant!” Sofia said.

  Bridget smiled at Sofia’s display of her growing vocabulary. Jack wasn’t fooled by Bridget’s forced good cheer. “What’s the matter?”

  She directed her gaze at Sofia and gave her head a brief shake.

  Isabella came through from the front, pulling on her jacket as she did.

  “Did you get me my gifts?”

  “That’s none of your business,” Jack said.

  “But I don’t want to get in the vehicle and see them through the shopping bag,” Isabella said.

  “You know what we’re getting you, anyway.”

  “This way I can imagine it’s something else.”

  “Hold on,” Jack said. “You asked us to get one thing but you are hoping it’s another?”

  Isabella pulled on her toque and mitts. “You might have thought of something even better.”

  “If he did, it’s small,” Sofia said. “I had to sit in the car while he went inside, and when he came out he had no bag so it is small.”

  “Or I went to the washroom like I said I was going to.”

  “You were there for a long time.”

  “Let’s give Jack-pa a break, girls,” Bridget said, “and let him take you home.” To the house that at least for this day they still had.

  “You coming with us?” Jack said in a way that suggested that would be preferred.

  The sooner she told him, the...well, certainly not the better. This was definitely not the season of glad tidings.

  * * *

  JACK’S FIRST THOUGHT upon hearing the news a half-hour later was that Bridget wouldn’t want to marry him now. She’d cite the financial mess as a reason not to enmesh their lives together even more. She’d tell him to return the ring that was right now in his jacket pocket. A ring he’d bought after coming off the best kiss he’d had since, well, since the one out on the lake.

  Her next words did nothing to allay fears.

  “We are screwed,” Bridget said and plunked down on an overturned crate.

  Jack refused to believe it. He couldn’t. “I will not have the girls eat from a garbage can again.”

  Bridget looked up with horrified eyes. “Is that what the girls—”

  “Yes. And I will not have either of them even think that would happen.”

  “Canada does have a safety net.”

  “It doesn’t have a safety net against trauma. Point is, we need to come up with about five grand fast. That shouldn’t be too hard. I’ve got a thousand left. We’ll drop in the money I’d set aside for the RV trip. That’ll give us another five hundred. How about you?”

  “I’ve got four hundred set aside for Christmas presents.”

  “Any room on your credit card?”

  “No. The funeral expenses, remember? I’m barely making minimum payments. You?”

  “Same. Not because of funeral expenses...but only making the minimum.” He shoved his hand in his jacket pocket, his hand encountering the ring box. He loathed giving up on marriage to Bridget, even for a few months. The last time he’d delayed with getting a ring on her finger, of declaring his commitment to her, it hadn’t happened. There had to be a way through this. “We need to go to the rest of the family, Bridge. They’d understand. And not to sound too uncharitable, but they are living here for free.”

  Bridget moaned. “Because I invited them.”

  “Circumstances have changed.”

  He used those exact same words when he explained the s
ituation to Krista and Mara. “Basically we’re asking for a loan of three thousand dollars.”

  Krista and Mara looked at each other in dismay. “The thing is,” Mara said, “is that, if we’d known earlier, it wouldn’t have been a problem. But we put our deposit on the rental for the first of January.

  “And we’re already cash-strapped from reno costs,” Mara said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Got it,” Jack said. He scrambled to think of friends, even abroad, he could wire for a quick loan. He drew a blank. Among his coworkers, he was considered a man of means, mostly due to his inherited wealth, before he’d lost it all in the scam. “Bridge, you know anybody? Even if it was a few friends and you ask for a few hundred?”

  Bridge called the three friends she considered close enough to ask the favor. Only one offered anything. Four hundred dollars. Bridget thanked her and told her to keep it.

  Jack couldn’t stand the growing despair on her face. “Listen,” he said, “we have work tonight. Work means money. Let’s put it out of our minds for now, and do what we can.”

  It turned out that what they could do was beyond their wildest expectations. Together at the bar they tallied the results. “This is our best take ever,” Bridget said. “As in the history of this place.”

  “Question is,” he said, entering the numbers, “is it enough?”

  “Enough to keep the restaurant afloat another month, for sure. The issue is the house.”

  But that wasn’t his worry. He typed in a formula to get a projected take for next weekend. “Okay, cross your fingers.” He hit the last button.

  He read the number twice in case his wishing brain had intentionally misread it. He fist-pumped the air. “Yes!” And turned the computer for her to see.

  “That is what we can expect next weekend based on the last two.”

  “Are you saying that we’ll make enough money to catch up on our payments?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “But Tanya said that the bank wanted full payments. By Monday.”

  “We’ll give her what we got. We’ll bring her the rest in a week.”

  Bridge gnawed the inside of her cheek. “Do you think they’ll accept it?”

  “What the system will see is that an account that has been overdue for the past year is suddenly paid up a week after issuing a warning. That should be acceptable.”

  Actually, Jack wasn’t so sure, but for the slow release of Bridget’s teeth on her cheek, he’d stick to this version.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’m going to sleep better than I thought.”

  “You better get a good night’s sleep. It’s going to be another late one tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean? Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

  Jack closed down his computer. “I know. Date night.”

  Her eyes widened. “Are you sure, Jack? You’d have to make dinner and you’re tired, too. You shouldn’t have to—”

  “I shouldn’t have to do anything I don’t want to. Which is why tomorrow is date night.”

  She stepped up on the rung of her stool, leaned over and kissed him. A quick, tired kiss, but one that he hadn’t initiated or had to win from her. “Okay,” she whispered against his lips. “Date night.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  KRISTA GAZED SOLEMNLY at Bridget’s reflection in the dressing-table mirror. Behind them, on the bed that had once been Bridget’s and was currently Deidre’s, Sofia and Isabella looked on with the same absorption. At least, Sofia did. Isabella’s expression, Bridget thought, held the same barely suppressed impatience she herself felt with Krista.

  Her focus unwavering, Krista laid a hank of Bridget’s hair across her front exactly as she’d done two minutes ago, then promptly flipped it back over Bridget’s shoulder.

  “Honestly, enough. Jack’s waiting downstairs and I still have to find my shoes.”

  “Okay, okay,” Krista said, “but you have no idea what a high bar your dress has set for your hair.”

  Her dress was gorgeous, a present from Auntie Penny three Christmases ago. Red with gold threading interwoven throughout, the off-shoulder number made Bridget feel...desirable. She might not have bothered to wear it except that Krista had remembered it, and Mara and Deidre had insisted, the girls had got in on the act and Bridget couldn’t come up with any reason strong enough to overpower their pestering.

  “Found them!” Mara said, pulling a shoebox out from behind Deidre’s suitcase.

  Krista abandoned Bridget’s hair. She snatched the box from Mara, flung away the lid and gathered up the shoes with the tenderness she’d use to hold a newborn. “There you are, my gorgeous beings.” She stroked the curved red uppers. “I released you from the nasty mall dungeon three years ago only to have you locked away in my evil sister’s closet.” She held them out to Sofia and Isabella. “Touch them and experience pure, distilled beauty.”

  The girls touched them with due reverence.

  “Hand them over,” Bridget demanded. “The reason I never wore them is because they go with the dress, which I’ve also never worn.”

  “Something I don’t get,” Krista said, doing as Bridget ordered. “Something must’ve happened in the past three years worthy of the dress.”

  “Nothing as important as going to a romantic dinner with Jack,” Mara said.

  Bridget decided to ignore both sisters and wiggled into her shoes. “Ouch, ouch, ouch. Your gorgeous beings have pincer jaws, Krista.”

  “Revenge for neglecting them. Now get downstairs and go get ’im!”

  Bridget cringed at her sister’s crassness, and left Krista and Mara with the girls and a ton of makeup.

  Jack was talking to Deidre in the kitchen when Bridget cleared the stairs, her heels rapping on the hard floor. He stopped and stared at her from top to toe. He drew back his shoulders, expanding his already considerable chest, and said to Deidre, “Isn’t she absolutely gorgeous?”

  Not as heart-stopping as him. He wore a light grey suit with a blue shirt and tie—darker blue with silvery snowflakes that set off his eyes and light hair. And on top of that, he was looking at her with the same tender intensity as just before he’d kissed her at the lake. And on Friday night.

  Flustered, Bridget turned to Deidre, who beamed back at her with the same look of pride as Jack. “Yes, she most definitely is.”

  If only they’d stop staring. “Could we just go?”

  Deidre held up her phone. “Pictures first. Here by the tree.”

  Bridget and Jack were obliged to pose, arms looped casually around each other by the Christmas tree and then by the fireplace and then—could someone come and take a picture of Deidre with Jack and Bridget? Which led to Krista and Mara taking pictures on their phones with all possible combinations of family members.

  “How do celebrities stand it?” Bridget asked Jack as he held the door to the SUV for her.

  “They don’t have our family to contend with. Wave to your fans,” he added, then closed the passenger door.

  Sure enough, they were clustered at the front window—mother, sisters and...Jack’s daughters. She returned their waves, which prompted Sofia into a flurry of two-handed waves.

  Jack sent off a quick salute before pulling from the curb. “You know,” he said, “when I asked Auntie Dee if you were gorgeous, I already knew the answer.”

  Bridget squirmed inside the red dress coat Deidre had insisted she borrow. “Flattery will only get you so far.”

  He held out his free hand to her, palm up. “How far will truth get me?”

  She hesitated, then slipped her hand into his. They were, after all, dating. Not like when they were high-school sweethearts, newly engaged, with the promise of a long future together. Still, their lives were far from over, and with the girls, and her sisters and Deidre back to stay, the future was fuller than ever. Even if it was
missing Auntie Penny.

  But that was the thing. Every time Jack had left on his short visits, she’d had to get over him. What if they got back together, and he left her again? This time, taking the girls with him.

  If that happened, there would be not just one hole to stitch up in her heart, but three.

  * * *

  BRIDGET WAITED AT the front of Penny’s while Jack rounded to the back door, insisting that he would be but a moment. A cold breeze off the lake curled around her legs, and made her fingertips tingle. A light snapped on in the back, and there... Jack appeared.

  He opened the front door for her, his suit jacket and tie gone. “Welcome,” he said, “to an evening at Penny’s. I am Jacques and I will be your waiter tonight.”

  The place was transformed. To the white lights in the windows were added gold sparklers, and tea lights flickered at each table to create pools of soft light and from speakers came a holiday playlist sending out her favorite version of “Do You Hear What I Hear?”

  At the best seat in the house, the curved bench with no cracked upholstery, shone three huge candles on a tablecloth that Auntie Penny had stored on the top shelf of her pantry. What would she have thought of her son laying it out for Bridget?

  As she drew closer she saw that red and pink rose petals dusted the top. And a setting for two.

  “Um, Jacques. These plates are heirlooms. My Auntie Penny never used them, and I don’t think her mother used them, either.”

  “I am simply following orders.”

  “What if they break?”

  “I was assured that they came from a setting for twelve. There’d still be enough for a full family sitting.”

  They were beautiful, trimmed in a pattern of gold ribbon with bunches of grapes. And her “waiter” was well-informed. There were more where these came from. Enjoy, she ordered herself.

  “I see I won’t be dining alone.”

  “Yes, your date will be joining you shortly,” Jacques said, showing nothing but the same flirty smile Jack used to make middle-aged women order drinks beyond their limit.

  Well, two could play this game. “I certainly hope so,” she said with a flip of her hair that would make Krista proud. “I don’t intend to go home alone tonight.”