Sunnyside Christmas

by Jacie Floyd

  “I don’t know…” she said, but in a moment of weakness, she turned around and went back out the door.

  A month ago, she would never have imagined herself wearing a tacky tiara in her hometown, joking around with a bunch of women she hadn’t seen in twelve years, slurping down her third Sex on The Beach through a penis straw while seated next to a New York super model. But what the hell?

  Harper’s super-stylish mother India refilled Jillian’s glass as she adjusted the sparkly ‘wannabe princess’ crown that kept slipping to the side of her head. Since Harper’s crown said Bride-to-be, all the others had to wannabe something. Wannabe next, wannabe laid, wannabe in love. Ironically, the super model’s said, “wannabe beautiful.” As if that was a problem for her. Jillian would have preferred just the plain old ‘wannabe’ version with no noun, but her old nemesis Natalie had smirked and plunked the princess one on her head.

  “You guys have such a busy week, I don’t know how you’re going to fit a traditional Thanksgiving into the schedule.” Jillian Bowman bent her head as the ten or so women in the room wrote answers to questions on a honeymoon quiz.

  “My family’s going with Zach’s to their farm.” The happy expression on Harper’s face could have been due to their holiday plans or her fourth glass of prosecco.

  “It’s the Novak Thanksgiving tradition,” Rachel said. “Zach wouldn’t hear of us doing anything else, despite it being Wedding Week and all.”

  Plus,” Susannah added, “We couldn’t think of anyplace nice enough around here to take Harper’s family for Thanksgiving dinner. Bob Evans’, Lenore’s diner, or Taco Rico just didn’t have the right level of sophistication for Zach’s soon-to-be in-laws.” She tipped her margarita toward India and Fiona.

  Fiona puffed up with mock outrage. “We’re not all that fancy. You should see some of the unusual places we’ve had to eat on photo shoots.”

  “And I grew up in Elbow Creek, Pennsylvania—a town even smaller than this one,” India said. “But we travel so much, we hardly ever have the chance to enjoy a home-cooked meal, so this will be great.”

  The thought of having Thanksgiving without her father in the world crushed Jillian like an anvil. In New York, she could have planned dinner with Lance’s family, or with the restaurant staff. Here in Sunnyside, she’d be the poor, sad outcast that people pitied and invited because she had nowhere else to go. No way would she put up with that.

  With three drinks under her belt, Jillian clapped her hands to get their attention. “Why don’t you all come to my house for Thanksgiving? I’m issuing a blanket invitation. There’s plenty of room, and my turkeys are delectable. I have the best-ever oyster stuffing recipe. And I make a fabulous broccoli-pomegranate dish that Bobby Flay shared with me.” The longer she talked, the more she liked the idea. She looked around expectantly. “Please say you’ll come.”

  “Thank you, Jillian,” Rachel said after a moment’s silence. “It’s so nice of you to offer, but our plans are set.”

  “India and Zach’s dad are planning a Thanksgiving throw-down,” Harper said with a laugh. “They’re trying to out-do the other with their family favorites.”

  “All right, I can see that both sides of the wedding party need to bond.” Jillian looked around the table, still hoping for some takers. Usually everyone flocked to come to her house. “What about the rest of you? It’s silly to let that big kitchen go to waste.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Tina said. “We’re going to Jimbo’s parents for lunch and to my family’s for dinner, so we’re booked the entire day.”

  “I’m cooking for the Majors clan at my house,” Junie piped up. “But you’re welcome to join us.”

  “We always go to my grandparents in Springfield,” Kate said. “Care to ride along? I’d love to have the company.”

  As various women wandered in and out, three or four others shared their plans for Thursday, also refusing her offer. Like they had to make excuses for not accepting her invitation. But she was fine with that. Naturally, they had family plans.

  “We’d love for you to join us.” Clare accompanied her offer with a warm smile. “Mick was going to ask you at your meeting with him tomorrow. Our daughter will be home for the weekend with her boyfriend, and Barb and Grady will be joining us since Brianna is going to her in-laws.”

  “By the way, where is Barb? I thought she’d be here.” Harper looked around for the older woman.

  Rachel stopped arranging an odd assortment of props on a table. “When Brianna came in, she said something had come up and Barb couldn’t make it.”

  “That’s odd,” Claire said. “When I heard she missed the council meeting yesterday, I called to see if anything was wrong. She said she’d been under the weather, but she intended to join us tonight. We’ll have to get more details from Brianna when she comes back from wherever she slipped off to. Did she go out to play pool with Natalie?”

  “That won’t do.” Rachel looked around and took a head count. “Before we eat, Daxina, Fiona, and Myra are going to perform an original one-act play. Will someone get everyone back in here?”

  Jillian jumped up. “I will.” She corralled a foursome playing pool, two others getting drinks at the bar, and headed toward the ladies’ room located at the back of the building. Before she turned the corner into the hall, she heard Natalie sniping in a confidential tone.

  “That’s just like the Sunnyside Princess, isn’t it? Trying to make everyone else feel bad because she has the biggest, nicest house.”

  “And showing off her fancy menu just because she’s cooked on television!” Brianna stage-whispered. “I guess she forgot that Thanksgiving dinner’s about crowding around the table for tried-and-true family recipes like dressing, sweet potatoes, and all the rest.”

  “Exactly! It’s about tradition.” Natalie’s volume returned to its normal level. “With six kinds of pie and Uncle Albert dozing off on the couch while the guys watch football.”

  A gasp of betrayal escaped Jillian, and the two gossips turned at the sound. How dare they talk about her like that? Jillian threw back her shoulders. She’d had more than she could take in the past two weeks. She was sensitive about all the princess comments, too. Especially with the shift in her financial status.

  Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but words of self-defense streamed out of her mouth. “Inviting everyone for dinner wasn’t about showing off my nice, big house. It was about the comfort I can offer to a large group. And many people consider cooking one of my special talents. I wanted Harper and Zach to have the time to enjoy the day with their family instead of being tied to the kitchen all day. And if I ever create a menu for Sunnyside again, I’ll save my ingenuity and consult with the Midwest Council on Carbs and Calories for suggestions on clogging the entire town’s arteries in one giant meal.” While Natalie and Brianna gaped, Jillian jerked the plastic tiara off her head and dashed it to the floor between them. “And don’t ever call me princess again. That was my father’s name for me, and he meant it in the nicest possible way.”

  Spinning on her heel, her dramatic exit was blocked by three broad chests.

  Liam wrapped his arms around her, looked down and smiled. “Well said, Princess.”

  Standing beside Liam, Zach applauded. “And he means that in the nicest possible way, too.”

  Brady pointed his finger at his sister. “How much have you had to drink, Brianna? You’re always snippy when you get a few margaritas in you.”

  Oh, dear God. Jillian covered her face with her hands. Naturally, there’d been an audience to witness her tirade.

  Chapter Nine

  Wrapped in Liam’s arms, Jillian took a minute to soak up his strength and get a grip on her emotions. She couldn’t believe she’d lost her temper like that. Their vicious words probably weren’t the cause of her distress, but they had been the final straw. Liam soothed her like a warm brandy until Natalie and Brianna tried to brush past them.

  Natalie’s sharp tone sliced through the air like a
poisoned dart. “Don’t tell me you two are back on again. Didn’t either one of you learn your lesson last time?”

  “After the mess they made of everything, they deserve one another.”

  Jillian stiffened and prepared to launch another scathing retort. Liam’s grip on the back of her neck held her in place, so she rested her forehead on his chest and fumed silently.

  “I wouldn’t be so quick to judge,” Zach told the troublemakers.

  Natalie snorted. “They left to conquer the world but look.” She waved her hand between the two of them. “They’re both back where they started.”

  “Didn’t you leave for a while, too, Natalie?” Grady said. “And now you’re back in Sunnyside.”

  “That was different.” She sniffed and raised her nose in the air.

  “I’m sure it was, since you’re back permanently,” Zach said, “but Jillian’s return is only temporary.”

  A moan of protest escaped from her throat. She hoped Zach’s words were true but had a sinking feeling they weren’t.

  “Don’t defend her, Zach,” Brianna said. “You know what a brat she’s always been.”

  “Somebody’s acting like a brat, all right,” Grady said to his sister, “but it’s not Jillian.”

  “Come on, Brianna.” Natalie hooked her arm through her friend’s. “Let’s get back to the party.”

  “Sorry about that,” Zach said to Jillian. “Natalie’s always been a pain in the ass.”

  “And drinking releases Brianna’s inner-bitch,” Grady added. “She’s never been able to hold her liquor.”

  “That’s all right, guys. Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but I remember what it’s like in Sunnyside. I shouldn’t have lashed out at them over petty grievances.”

  “They deserved it.” Liam’s hand at the small of her back sent spirals of warmth through her. “We heard the conversation.”

  “Zach!” Harper rushed up and threw herself into his arms like they’d been separated for weeks instead of hours. “I couldn’t believe it when Natalie said you were here.” She leaned back to look him in the eye. “Why are you here?”

  About half the other women from the bachelorette party appeared behind them. “Yeah, Zach,” Rachel crossed her arms. “Why are you here? Why are you hugging Jillian, Liam? And I assume Grady’s tagging along to instigate trouble.”

  “I’m comforting her, not hugging her.” Liam kept his arms around Jillian, but another wave of embarrassment had her take a step back.

  “I came to meet the super model,” Grady said, rubbing his hands together with anticipation.

  “Josh and I got paged.” Zach shrugged. “Liam didn’t want me driving since I’d been drinking.”

  “You’ve been drinking and couldn’t drive, but you could doctor?” Junie asked. “That’s messed up.”

  “Josh hadn’t been drinking, and I hadn’t been drinking much, and I thought he might need my help.”

  “Then where is Josh?” Susannah asked.

  “We left him at the hospital. He didn’t need my help, after all.”

  Harper stacked her hands on her hips. “So back to my original question. Why are you guys here?”

  Zach tilted his head toward the bar where a metrosexual stranger was introducing the bartender to the famous Wexley Wilde. “It was Nathan’s idea. He wanted to see Wayne.” He lowered his voice and pulled her close. “And I wanted to see you.”

  His fiancée gave him a quick kiss. “Good answer, but you’re missing the whole premise of the bachelorette party.”

  “Yeah,” Rachel said. “We don’t need no stinking guys.”

  “Wait a minute, Zach.” India turned toward the bar where her husband was signing autographs and posing for selfies with the locals. “If you left the bachelor party to go to the hospital, Liam left to drive you, and your handsome friend came to meet Fiona, why is Wex here?”

  “And Jimbo,” Jillian added.

  “Jimbo’s here as security for Wex,” Zach joked.

  When the sheriff and the rock star noticed the females staring, they waved and headed over.

  “You guys are crashing our party!” Rachel accused. “Admit it.”

  Zach shrugged. “We just wanted to see what you were up to.”

  “Didn’t want you getting into any trouble.” Wexley Wilde slipped his arm around his wife’s waist.

  “Says the man who’s known for trouble on three continents,” India teased.

  “Liam doesn’t know how to throw a bachelor party,” Jimbo stage-whispered to his wife.

  “Sorry.” Liam shrugged. “It’s my first time.”

  “Yeah, we were getting bored,” Zach said.

  Harper gave him a skeptical look. “You were getting bored at a strip club?”

  “It was between shows,” Liam explained, checking his watch. “But we should get back now.”

  Wexley reeled India in for a kiss. “See you later, sweetheart. Leave a light on for me.”

  “What makes you think I’ll get home first?”

  All the other guys returned to the bar, but Liam stayed at Jillian’s side.

  “You coming?” Zach asked him. “You are the designated driver, you know.”

  “Be there in a second.” He grabbed Jillian’s hand as she tried to move away. “You all right?”

  “Except for wishing I could crawl into a hole? Yep.” Except for wishing I could curl up in your lap for about an hour and kiss your face off? Nope.

  “When did you get back?”

  “This afternoon.”

  “How’d everything go?”

  She hitched a shoulder. “Eh.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “I’m still processing.” After the horrific three weeks she’d had and her run-in with the local version of Mean Girls, a thread of vulnerability left her on the verge of tears ten out of every twelve hours, unsure of herself, and more grateful for his support than she would have predicted. “Thanks for your help with Wyland this week. And with my frenemies tonight.”

  He stepped closer. “I didn’t do much. In either situation.”

  The brush of his arm against hers sent another heatwave to her cheeks. With his six-feet-two-inches towering so near, her dinky five-foot-four had to look up to see his face. So familiar. So endearing. So wrong for her. Or not.

  She pulled in a deep breath along with her courage to ask the question that popped into her head. “What are your Thanksgiving plans?”

  “Helping at the Salvation Army dinner in Peoria.”

  His answer surprised her. Even though she’d always known him to lend a hand to those in need, his more recent reputation went in a different direction. “I should do that, too.” She ducked her head to keep him from seeing her desperation for company on the one day of the year that commemorated family more than any other. Except for Christmas, of course, which Lord help her, loomed right around the corner, but she’d concentrate on one hurdle at a time. “Staying busy would keep me from feeling sorry for myself.”

  “They can always use an extra set of hands. And a trained chef? They’d be all over that. Let me know if you want to carpool.”

  Maybe she would offer to help, but it was time to quit dodging her real question. “Do you have plans for dinner afterward?”

  “Of course.” He pulled his shoulders back as if insulted, but his mouth twitched up in a self-deprecating grin. “If a fried egg sandwich counts as a plan.”

  “Not where Thanksgiving is concerned, it doesn’t.”

  “Then, no.”

  Shuffling her feet, she tried to sound off-hand. “This may sound like a terrible idea, but would you like to come over for dinner?”

  “As everybody knows, I’m a sucker for terrible ideas. What can I bring?”

  A breath whooshed out of her, and she smiled. “Not a thing. I’ve got it all under control.” Not even close to true, but she would make it work. Cooking was what she did best.

  “Come on, let me bring something.”

 
; “What can you make?”

  “Nothing, but I can pick up a pumpkin pie at Marty’s.”

  “Sounds good.” The local baker did make a mean pie. Jillian didn’t have to stand on ceremony and cook every little thing. It was only going to be the two of them, after all. “I’ll get the whipped cream.”

  “Perfect. Then it’s a date for Thursday. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  His words made no sense. It wasn’t a date, was it? Not in the mooning over him, sweaty-palmed, couldn’t wait to see him, dreamy kind of dates they used to have. She gulped, and her eyes went wide as she gazed up at him. “What?”

  He brushed a tendril of hair over her shoulder and leaned in to graze his lips against her cheek. “Don’t freak out. It’s just an expression. Not a real date.”

  She traced her fingertips along the length of his jaw as she worked out his meaning. “But tomorrow’s not Thursday.”

  “We’re meeting at Mick’s in the morning about your finances, remember?”

  Of course, she remembered. Way to put a damper on a moment.

  The next morning, Jillian gazed at the paper in her hand like the words and figures were written in hieroglyphs. If only the standard numbers and letters were that complicated. The names of thirty odd businesses were listed in alphabetical order with a series of digits behind them. The ten or so businesses printed in blue were neutral—as in breaking even. About twice that many were printed in red to indicate their dismal financial status.

  Her father’s lawyer and accountant were seated on the other side of the conference table from her like two benevolent uncles. They exchanged uncomfortable glances.

  “It’s a lot to grasp.” Marcus twisted the wrapper off one of the butterscotch candies he invariably carried. “To simplify, I boiled it all down to just a few pages.” He placed one of the candies in front of her like she was still a child who could be tempted away from a tantrum with a sweet.

  “The two companies printed in black really are the only ones making a profit?” She looked to him for confirmation.