The Mistletoe Promise

by Richard Paul Evans

“So what do you think of our party?”

  “I feel a little out of place,” I said. “Everything is so nice.”

  “You deserve nice,” he said. “Thank you for coming with me. Usually I just put in my time, eat a few shrimp, and bolt. It’s been really nice having you here.”

  “I think everyone’s fooled,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They really think we’re a couple.”

  He ate a few more shrimp, then said, “You know what’s sad is that we might be one of the most authentic couples here tonight.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Charles, Blake, and Stephanie are having affairs. Phil and his paralegal Rachel have mysteriously disappeared at the same time every Thursday afternoon for the last three years, and Kurt is waiting for the optimum financial opportunity to divorce his wife. What we have might be more real than much of what we saw out there tonight.”

  “Are Scott and Sharon happy?”

  “Yes. They’re the real thing.”

  “They seem happy,” I said.

  Nicholas must have tired of the topic because he took a drink of eggnog and said, “I know I said it before, but you really do look beautiful tonight.”

  “It’s the dress.”

  “That’s like saying the Mona Lisa is beautiful because of its frame.”

  We stole off from the party without saying good-bye. Nicholas took the long way back to my place, which I didn’t mind. I didn’t want the night to end. It was almost midnight when he pulled up in front of my apartment.

  “I hope that wasn’t too painful,” he said.

  “No. It was really nice. Actually, I haven’t been anywhere that nice for a long time. They treated me better than my own colleagues.”

  “You can accuse us lawyers of many things, but we are civil. At least most of the time. Candace could have been nicer.”

  “I’m afraid I drew first blood.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I asked her if she was a legal secretary.”

  Nicholas grimaced. “Yes, that would definitely pull her chain.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “It’s all right. She’ll get over it.” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Good night, Elise.”

  “Good night.” I reached for the door handle, then looked back. “May I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why are you so nice to me?”

  He was quiet a moment, then said, “It makes me sad that you had to ask.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. “Good night, Nicholas. Thank you for a lovely evening.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  That night as I lay alone in bed thinking about how nice the evening had been, a terrible thought crossed my mind. Maybe I shouldn’t have signed the contract after all. Sometimes it’s just better not to know what you’re missing.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty

  Something is wrong with Nicholas. I wish I knew what to do.

  Elise Dutton’s Diary

  For the first time since I’d started working at ICE, I found myself looking forward to Monday. More specifically, seeing Nicholas. And I loved anticipating his gifts. I don’t know how he kept up with them. Though I suspected his secretary helped with them, I was sure that he picked them out himself. Monday I got a candle scented like Christmas sugar cookies, on Tuesday a DVD of A Christmas Carol (the George C. Scott version of course), and on Wednesday a CD of a Kenny G Christmas album.

  On Thursday the sixth, something changed. There was no gift. And Nicholas was different. He was tense and withdrawn. He wasn’t just acting different, he looked different. At lunch he barely ate. He barely spoke. He barely even looked at me. I wondered if I’d done something to upset him.

  Finally, I asked, “Is something wrong at work?”

  “No,” he said darkly. “Same old tricks. People suing each other, divorcing each other, contesting wills, brother against brother, sister against sister, everyone looking out for themselves.” He shook his head with disgust. “As if there weren’t already enough pain in this godforsaken world.”

  The tone of his voice frightened me. After a moment I asked, “Are you okay?”

  He pushed his salad around a little, then looked up. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not yourself today.”

  “It’s nothing,” he said.

  We sat quietly for a moment until I said, “If I did something . . .”

  “It’s nothing,” he repeated sharply.

  Emotion rose in my chest. “I’m sorry,” I said. I stood. “I better go.”

  He likewise stood, reaching for my arm. “No, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” He hesitated for a moment, then said, “I’m just under a lot of pressure. I’m really sorry I snapped. Please . . . forgive me.”

  I looked into his anxious eyes. It was more than stress. There was pain in them. “Okay.” We both sat back down. After a moment I said, “It’s not your fault. I kept pushing you. I was afraid that maybe I’d done something wrong.”

  He looked at me for a moment, then said, “It’s not you.”

  “If I can do anything to make you feel better . . .”

  He reached across the table and took my hand. “If there were something anyone could do, you would be the one I’d go to. I’ll be okay. I promise. I go through this every year around this time. It will pass.”

  I wondered what he’d meant by that, but I wasn’t about to ask. We sat there for a few more minutes eating in awkward silence. I wasn’t really hungry anymore, and there didn’t seem to be much more to say. “I guess I better let you go,” I said.

  He looked sad. “I’m sorry I wasn’t better company.” We both stood. “I’ll see you on Monday.” He turned to go.

  “Nicholas,” I said. I walked up to him and put my arms around him. “I don’t know what’s going on. But I care.” I hugged him tighter.

  When I stepped back, I noticed that his eyes were slightly red. “Thank you,” he said softly. “That means more than you know.” He turned and walked away.

  The next day I didn’t leave my office at lunchtime, which everyone noticed.

  “Where’s Nick?” Zoey asked.

  “He’s out of town,” I said, not really knowing where he was. It just seemed the best way to explain why I wasn’t with him.

  “Good. Then you can come to lunch with us,” Zoey said. “Cathy and I are going to get sushi.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “But I’m not hungry.”

  Zoey touched my arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Nicholas is just acting a little different.”

  She nodded. “It will be okay. Sometimes men just need some space. Some cave time.”

  I forced a smile. “I’m sure you’re right.” Inside I wasn’t sure.

  I worried about Nicholas all weekend. I wanted to call him, but never did. Maybe it was just fear, but something told me not to. Our time apart revealed to me just how much I cared about him and needed him. I was beginning to fear Christmas.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-one

  When I signed the contract I knew the relationship was fake. So why doesn’t it feel that way anymore?

  Elise Dutton’s Diary

  I was anxious from the moment I woke on Monday. For the first time since I’d signed the contract I was nervous to see Nicholas. My anxiety grew as lunchtime neared.

  About a half hour before noon Mark walked into my office. “We’ve got a problem,” he said. “The Marriott you booked in New York for our Dayton group has a gas leak and had to evacuate. We’ve got sixty kids on a bus and no place to stay for the night.”

  I groaned. “All right. I’ll get on the phone.” I pulled up my list of New York hotels and began calling. Nicholas called from the food
court at a quarter after noon. I had been so involved in my crisis that I hadn’t realized what time it was.

  “You’re standing me up?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late.”

  “Then I’ll wait,” he said.

  “No, I can’t come.”

  “Then you are standing me up?”

  “No, it’s just, I have a problem. One of my hotels shut down, and I need to find someplace for sixty kids to stay. This might take all afternoon.”

  He was quiet a moment before he said, “Well, you have to eat. I’ll bring something up.”

  “That would be great,” I said.

  “Pork salad?”

  “Anything,” I said.

  Nicholas arrived about fifteen minutes later carrying a bag of food. As worried as I had been to see him, he looked fine. He set the bag on my desk. “Here you go,” he said. “Change of cuisine.”

  “What did you get?”

  “A Chick-fil-A sandwich. I figured you need something you can eat while you talk on the phone.” He brought out the sandwich and a drink and laid them on my desk. “And the lemonade is sugar-free. How’s it going?”

  “Not well. It’s hard finding a block of that many rooms last minute.”

  “Can I help you call?”

  “Really?”

  “Why not?”

  “How much time do you have?”

  “Maybe forty-five minutes.”

  “That would help.” I printed off a list of hotels, then tore it in half. “Just tell them it’s an emergency and ask if they have a block of thirty-two rooms, double-occupancy, for tonight.”

  “What if they have availability for twenty?”

  “That’s not enough.”

  “I know, but couldn’t you use two hotels?”

  “If we have to,” I said. “But they’d have to be close to each other.”

  “What phone should I use?”

  “There’s one out in the reception area. Use line three.”

  “Line three,” he said, walking out with the paper I’d given him. Less than a half hour later he walked back into my office. “I’ve got one on the line,” he said. He laid the list down on my desk. “I circled it,” he said. “The Liss Suites in Brooklyn.”

  He had doodled all over my phone list. There was a cartoon picture of a woman with her hair on fire.

  “Is this supposed to be me?”

  “No. Maybe.”

  “It looks like me.”

  He grinned. “It probably is.”

  In spite of my stress I laughed. “Okay, so did they give you a rate?”

  “No. But the manager said that they’d match your rate if it was reasonable.”

  “You’re a doll,” I said. I picked up the phone while Nicholas sat back and watched. The hotel worked out perfectly. It was actually nicer than the one I had originally reserved.

  “Sounds like my work here is done,” Nicholas said as I hung up.

  “Thank you. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You’re good at this. You might put me out of my job someday.”

  “I’ve been looking for something meaningful to do with my life,” he said.

  “You saved sixty kids from sleeping on the streets of New York.”

  He stood, “Sorry to save the day and run, but I need to get back to my other job.”

  “I’ll walk you to the elevator,” I said.

  In the hallway he asked, “How was your weekend?”

  I looked him in the eyes. “Awful.” We stopped in front of the elevator.

  “Why awful?”

  “Because all I did was worry about you.”

  He was quiet a moment then said, “Thank you for worrying.” He pushed the up button and said, “I told you I’d be okay.”

  “I know. You look much better.”

  “I am.”

  “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “I’m around all week. And we have the partners’ party this Friday.”

  “When do you leave for New York?”

  “Monday. Have you ever been to New York at Christmastime?”

  “I’ve never been to New York at any time.”

  “Not even to check out the hotels?”

  “Not even. Either Mark or one of our guides does that.”

  “That’s a shame,” he said. “There’s no place like New York at Christmas. Rockefeller Center, Fifth Avenue, Radio City Music Hall. It’s magical.”

  “Maybe someday,” I said.

  “Come with me next week.”

  “Yeah, right,” I said.

  He looked at me seriously. “You said we’d see how things were going. I think they’re going well, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Then come with me. I’ll have meetings during the day, but you can go sightseeing. Then at night, we’ll go out on the town. It will be fun.”

  “I’d have to see if I can take the time off.”

  “How much vacation time do you have?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “When was the last time you took a vacation?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Exactly. Time to cash some in.” When I didn’t speak, he said, “Look, when are you going to get another offer for an all-expenses-paid trip to New York City?”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said.

  “All right. You think about it. But let me know soon so we can book your flight. The flights get pretty full this time of year.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll let you know by tomorrow.”

  Just then the elevator bell rang. Zoey and Cathy stepped out.

  “Hi, Nick,” Zoey said. “Hi, Elise.”

  “Hello, ladies,” Nicholas said. He leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. “Think about it.” He stepped past them into the elevator. “Have a good day.”

  After the door shut Zoey said, “Think about what?”

  “Did he propose to you?” Cathy asked.

  “No,” I said. “He wants me to go to New York with him.”

  “At Christmas?” Zoey said. “New York is amazing at Christmas. What’s there to think about?”

  I thought for just a moment, then said, “You’re right.”

  I called Nicholas just ten minutes later. “I want to go.”

  “Excellent,” he said. “I’ll have Sabrina book the flight.”

  “How long will we be there?”

  “All week,” he said.

  “I’m so excited.”

  “Me too,” he said. “You’re going to love it.”

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-two

  Tonight Nicholas took me to his home. I would have liked to stay longer. Much longer. Like forever.

  Elise Dutton’s Diary

  Nicholas and I skipped lunch the next Friday because he had too much to do before leaving town. Instead I spent my lunch break with Zoey, who used the time to fix my hair for Nicholas’s partners’ party.

  “You better take a lot of pictures tonight,” she said. “I want to see you in that dress. Do you remember which earrings we picked out?”

  “We put them in a Ziploc bag and wrote the date on it with a Sharpie.”

  She laughed. “Oh, yeah. No margin for error.”

  “I’m a little nervous,” I said. “That first party was so fancy, but I’m afraid this one is going to be more so.”

  “Just have fun. You’re going to be great.”

  “I just don’t want to embarrass Nicholas in front of his partners.”

  “The only problem you’ll have is all their wives will hate you.”

  “Why would they hate me?”

  “Because all their husbands will be ogling y
ou.”

  I smiled. I was sure Zoey had had more than her share of wife-hate.

  “Speaking of ogling,” she said, “have you noticed how Mark looks at you these days?”

  The comment caught me off guard. “He’s married.”

  “Yes, but he’s not blind.”

  “Why would he suddenly notice me?”

  “Probably because someone else did,” she replied.

  When I got home from work I took a quick shower, then put on the dress—the silk masterpiece Zoey and I had chosen for tonight. I had never worn anything so elegant. It hung from one shoulder, and the beads sewn into the fabric shimmered as I moved. Then I put on the jewelry that we had picked out. The earrings were larger than I was used to, but they matched the elegance of the dress. The heels I’d chosen were also taller than I usually wore, but they made a statement as well. I felt gorgeous.

  Nicholas shook his head when he saw me. “Wow,” he said. “Just wow.”

  The party was held at the founder’s home on Walker Lane. It was only twenty minutes from my apartment but a world away.

  The house was a mansion. Or, more accurately, a villa, since it was Italian in design with rock and stucco exterior, a large, pillared portico, and beautiful wrought-iron front doors. Gas lights highlighted the brick-lined arched portals of the four-car garage. The yard was lit like a resort with lush landscaping and statuary.

  Nicholas took my arm, and we walked up to the front door. A man standing in the lit portico opened the door for us. As we stepped inside the foyer we were embraced by a rush of light, smells, and music. The floor was polished wood, covered in places with lush area rugs. A brass chandelier, at least eight feet in diameter, hung above us from the high, domed ceiling.

  In the sitting room across from the front door, a young woman was playing a harp next to a group I assumed, from the instruments around them, were members of a string quartet taking a break. I had never been inside such a luxurious home. I felt even more out of place than I had at La Caille. As usual, Nicholas was in his element.