by Cecilia Gray
Nice man on the phone. Only her mom would call Tom Trenton a nice man on the phone, she thought with a smile. She wiped away a stray tear. “We’re opening presents after this call, so I’ll get it soon. I’m really excited about it.”
“Me, too. Hey, sweetie, are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Kat swallowed as her voice cracked. “Just really tired. Being a personal assistant is more work than I thought.”
“You’re not afraid of work.”
“No, I’m not,” Kat said. “Actually…I really like it, Mom.”
Her mom laughed. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I mean, I like the work. All of it—the grunt work, the assistant stuff, the project management. I like all of it. More than I thought.”
“I always told you that no matter what you did, you’d be a star,” her mom said. “Is that really what’s bothering you?”
Kat’s lip began to tremble because she couldn’t share what was really bothering her. What was bothering her was that Henry didn’t trust her. And neither Henry nor Josh thought she was capable of keeping a secret or being responsible.
What was really bothering her was that they were right. She hadn’t proven herself trustworthy. Not yet.
“I’m just tired.”
“Well, open your gifts and get some rest,” her mom ordered.
“I will. Love you.”
“I love you, too. Don’t think you can get away with not calling me tomorrow because you called me today. A Christmas phone call isn’t official until Christmas.”
Kat smiled, the warmth mixing with the ache. “I would never forget, Mom. Talk to you then.”
She hung up and buried her face in her pillow, crying a little as her shoulders shook.
She’d never missed her mom more than she did now. Henry was right. Her mother was exceptional. Her mother was the kind of person people made movies about. She was bold, fearless. She’d made her way in a male-dominated industry. She’d raised a child by herself. She’d become one of the most successful science entrepreneurs in the world.
She hadn’t done it by being a coward and hiding in her room.
Kat straightened, grabbed the bag of gifts from Bloomingdale’s, and walked downstairs, head held high.
Tom, Josh, and Henry were gathered at the base of the Christmas tree listening to old Christmas songs. Tom was sharing a story about last year’s Christmas charity event and how a particularly big star had mistaken the white-chocolate fountain for a urinal.
Tom’s voice trailed off as he saw Kat. Henry and Josh turned.
“You’re feeling better?” Tom asked. “Henry mentioned you weren’t feeling well.”
“I’m better now,” she said.
“Now that you’re here, we can skip my boring old stories and get straight to presents,” Tom said.
Kat held out her bag. “I got something for all of you today. I didn’t have time to wrap them.”
“Thank you,” Tom said. “That was very kind.”
Kat pulled out a pair of leather gloves for Tom—a distressed brown that matched his jacket. He thanked her as he tried them on and flexed the gloves at the knuckles. Next up was Josh—she handed him a green wicking scarf.
“A sports scarf,” she explained. “So you can wear it if you’re running in the cold.”
Josh’s lips quirked reluctantly. “That’s thoughtful,” he said.
“Fanny has one for when she’s in training and she loves it. I figured since you run so much, too…”
Josh nodded and patted her on the shoulder twice. “It’s a good gift, Morley.”
With a heavy breath, she pulled out Henry’s gift and held it out to him.
Henry met her eyes with a dead stare and finally glanced down at the object in her hand.
Curiosity lit up his eyes as he saw the colorful, striped beanie. He picked it up and tucked it over his head, pulling the warm stocking cap over his ears.
“What’s it supposed to mean?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Kat said. “It’s fun and warm. Like you. Naturally.”
Henry pulled the cap tighter.
Kat mouthed, I’m sorry.
Henry reached under the tree and handed her a box that fit between her palms, wrapped in gold paper. She recognized her mom’s scrawl on the tag.
She unwrapped the paper, opened the box, and pulled out a Christmas ornament—a purple-and-gold speckled piece of granite that her mother must have had specially sanded and carved into a star.
“Look at that,” Tom said, leaning in. “I’ve never seen an ornament quite like it.”
“It’s a rock.” Kat handed it to him. “One of a kind. Just like my mom.”
Chapter Eight
Christmas morning dawned with the chaos of breakfast and a chorus of polite, if distant, Merry Christmases. Kat hesitantly joined everyone in the kitchen. Henry scrambled eggs. Tom brewed coffee. Josh went through a list of numbers, wishing everyone from his agent to his publicist a merry Christmas, even though he seemed to be talking to a lot of answering services. Not wanting to feel left out or seem ungrateful, she set the table with plates and coffee cups.
All the work in the kitchen reminded Kat of Megan, who had packed up her truck and flown home to Denver for Christmas. Their time in Bande already felt like the distant past, and Kat realized this would, too, soon. By next week, she would be back at the Jane Austen Academy, and her life would return to normal. But how could it when she didn’t feel like the person she used to be?
“Have a merry Christmas, kids. I’ll be back tonight,” Tom said. He took a quick swig of coffee but didn’t bother to eat.
Kat could have sworn Tom had said his agent, publicist, and manager would be coming over today. It had been why he’d wanted to move her upstairs, in fact.
“Leaving so early?” Henry checked his new wristwatch—a present from his mom. “They don’t start filming until lunch.”
“I’m sure traffic will be nuts today.” Tom grabbed his leather jacket off the coatrack and disappeared out the front door.
Kat pulled back a chair at the dining table and sat down. When she glanced into the kitchen, Henry was staring at her with dark, angry eyes.
“Don’t say it.”
“Say what?” Kat asked.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Henry said. “You think he’s leaving early to meet Scarlett Hill.”
Kat sighed. “I wasn’t thinking that because I woke up five seconds ago and have barely thought anything, but yeah, I’m thinking it now. I’m not going to say it or talk about it or anything.” She drew her thumb and forefinger across her mouth as if zipping it shut.
“You might be quiet, but you still don’t believe he’s innocent.” Henry stirred the eggs with a spatula and stared out the kitchen window as his father’s car pulled out of the driveway. “I can see I’ll have to prove it to you.”
“You don’t need to prove anything,” she mumbled. She rubbed her eyes. Just the smell of coffee was perking her up, and she debated having a cup. Before she could, Henry shut off the burner, abandoned the skillet, and stormed toward her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her outside to Josh’s mumbled, “What the…?”
She pulled her hand away as they reached the front door. “If you want me to go somewhere with you, just ask.” She massaged her wrist.
“I’ll prove it to you,” Henry said. “Just come with me.” His eyes were unfocused, his hands jittery. He didn’t need to prove anything to her, she realized. This had nothing to do with her—she was just the excuse he needed.
She followed him to the costume cottage. “Henry, I think you’ve overreacting.” How had she become the voice of calm and reason?
Henry grabbed a twill deerstalker cap for himself and handed her an elegant black, bell-shaped hat.
“Sherlock Holmes and Miss Marple,” he said by way of explanation as she stuck it on her head. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Henry drove his white truck six car lengths behind
his father on the freeway. His grip strained against the steering wheel. He looked at her in a way that made her sink deeper into her seat. If only she’d kept her mouth shut.
Kat pulled the edges of her hat down over her ears. What had she done? She’d turned sweet Henry into a paranoid freak.
“Careful,” she squealed as he swerved the truck across three lanes toward an exit, following his father’s car.
“This isn’t the way to the convention center,” he said grimly.
“I’m sure he’s just getting gas,” Kat said. “Even if he is seeing Scarlett, he wouldn’t meet her in his extraordinarily recognizable Tesla, would he?”
“I don’t know what he’d do,” Henry said, his voice rising. “I never thought he and my mom would spend Christmas apart, but all of a sudden she has a project at some museum in Paris that she just can’t miss, and she calls but only speaks to me and not to him, so maybe I don’t know anything.”
Kat’s heart sank as she watched Henry’s face contort and crumble.
“Tom Trenton proposes to longtime girlfriend beneath the Eiffel Tower. Tom Trenton celebrates fairy-tale marriage in Paris. Those weren’t just headlines. I thought that was their life. I thought my parents’ marriage was perfect.” Henry slapped the steering wheel. “I sound like a ten-year-old.”
“It’s okay,” Kat said soothingly. “Their marriage probably was perfect…while it was perfect. But people change. Your dad…your parents are just people. Every emotion you’ve been taught to harness, every human flaw you’ve trained to portray in your character, they have those. We all do.”
“I know.” Henry turned to her, and his brown eyes looked deep into hers. “I know my dad’s flaws. I know when he wants something, he goes for it, damn the consequences. That’s what makes my father Tom Trenton. That’s the problem.” He turned his attention back to the road and followed the car into Laurel Canyon, making sure to stay several cars behind the Tesla.
“Do you know where Scarlett Hill lives?” Kat asked.
Henry shook his head. “I heard it was closer to the coast. Not all the way out here.”
“He’s waiting for a gate.” Kat pointed ahead.
Henry drove past his father and then carefully turned down the next street and parked behind a manicured bush. They watched as the gate to a large property slowly rolled open, and he drove inside.
“Who lives there?” Henry jumped out of his truck.
Kat quickly unbuckled her seat belt to follow. “Are you sure this is a good idea? If anyone spots you—paparazzi or something—they might suspect something.”
Henry stopped, anxiously chewing the inside of his cheek. They walked down the tree-lined sidewalk of the ritzy community. Another car came down the road, and Henry turned, pushing Kat up against the manicured bushes. He covered her body with his, his face close to hers, both hats acting as shields.
“Act natural,” he said.
“Since when is this natural?” she squeaked.
His hands lay lightly against the green branches on either side of her hips. Once the car passed, he must finally have realized how close he was because his head snapped up. Their eyes met, and his breathing quickened.
Kat looked away, taking in patches of him. His shirt clung at his collarbone. A tuft of hair over his ear had grown back faster than the rest, and she wanted to brush back the downy softness. His chest rose and fell with each breath. His lips parted.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
He stepped away and set his hands on top of his hat. “Sorry, I thought…if we just sort of acted like we belonged…”
“Like in the movies?” she said.
“Yeah, lame.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“You said that already.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Why had she even said something to kill the moment? If she’d just kept her mouth shut—but then what? Would he have kissed her? So what? Her first thought this morning had been that she was not living her real life. Her real life was a week away, somewhere else, without Henry.
Henry must have agreed because he turned back toward the house. “Let’s take a look.”
But then another car turned down the street—a fancy gray Beamer. Henry took two steps back because even from where they were standing, it was easy to see who was driving.
Scarlett Hill’s blond hair was unmistakable.
Her car turned into the same gated property.
Henry watched, his jaw clenched, as the gate rolled open and Scarlett drove inside.
* * *
Kat didn’t speak as she and Henry sat at the base of the Christmas tree. Their hats were long discarded, their feet crossed. He dialed his mother’s number for the fifth time and hung up again.
Finally, he tossed the phone aside and buried his face in his hands.
“If you want to talk about it—” she said.
“No. It’s Christmas Day. I want to talk about something else. Anything else.”
She nodded in understanding and looked around helplessly for something to distract him. Her eyes landed on the skillet on the stove, which they’d abandoned when they’d taken off after Tom. “I didn’t realize you could cook. I never thanked you for breakfast yesterday.”
He nodded and brought his head back up. His hands tapped against his feet like a drum. “I never apologized for being a jerk to you.”
“I never really said sorry for snooping in your house.”
“I’m sorry you were right.”
“Me, too,” she whispered. “Are we even?”
“Not yet,” he said. He jumped to his feet and ran upstairs to return a moment later with a flat, wrapped box. “Merry Christmas,” he said as he handed it to her. “I had it for you, but then I was mad so I took it back. That was immature. I want you to have it.”
She accepted the box, testing its heavy weight. “Thank you.”
“You haven’t opened it yet.”
She smiled. “I’m sure I’ll love it.” She pulled the ribbon and tore away the wrapping. Inside was a bound, handmade book and hundreds upon hundreds of photocopied pages. Script pages. Scenes from many of Tom Trenton’s movies and other scenes from famous films and classics. She pulled the book closer and realized the scenes contained handwritten notes in the corners:
Take a step towards the camera to emphasize menace.
A slight tilt of the head when a camera moves across your face will force its focus.
“I have the original,” Henry said. “But it’s all the script notes my dad’s collected over the years. Whatever he is—whatever he’s doing—he’s still an amazing actor.” Henry smirked wryly. “Good enough to fool me.”
Kat shot him a look of pity, but he immediately began to shake his head.
“No, none of that,” he said a little loudly. “Don’t look at me like that. Please, let’s talk about anything else.”
Kat nodded and looked back down at his gift. “Henry, this is…” Kat shook her head, unable to find the words to express her gratitude.
“Priceless, like my compliments, right?” Henry laughed weakly.
Kat nodded.
Henry pointed to her mom’s star, which he and Josh and wrangled to the top of the Christmas tree last night. “It’s at least the second-best Christmas gift you’ve gotten this year, right?”
“Ah, sorry,” Kat joked. “My friend Fanny and I exchanged gifts before we left for vacation, so…”
“Third best,” he said ruefully.
She leaned over and impulsively kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.” Her lips tingled as she pulled away.
His hand shot up to his cheek, but he quickly let it fall. “You’re welcome.”
She grinned uncontrollably and looked up the tree to the very top, at her mom’s star. It was beautiful but out of place against the more sophisticated Italian glass orbs. “I never realized before how lonely it is,” she said.
Henry looked at her questioningly. “What?”
“Being the star at the
top of the tree. It doesn’t match with anything else. Is kind of on its own.”
Henry scooted closer to her. “There’s no rule that says you can’t put more stars up there.”
* * *
“This makes four,” Henry said as they started the next movie—A Christmas Story—in what Henry was deeming “The Christmas Re-Education of Kat Morley” once he’d discovered she hadn’t seen any of what he’d determined were Christmas classics.
“My mom hates cheesy stuff,” she explained.
“Cheesy?” Henry exploded. “Cheesy? Get your mom on the phone.”
Kat thought he was joking, but he stood by and impatiently tapped his foot. “I already called her for Christmas.”
“You think your mom is going to ignore any call from her only child on Christmas?” He cocked an eyebrow.
She half sighed, half smiled and dialed her mother. After a brief exchange, Henry grabbed the phone and asked her how she could have left Kat’s education incomplete. After being momentarily stunned, her mother caught on to the joke, and thanked him for his efforts to educate Kat for her.
Kat held her breath as Henry sat back on the couch. After each movie, he seemed to drift closer and closer. They’d started on opposite ends of the plush, white leather sofa, but now they were both in the middle, with only a sliver of couch between them.
She wanted to close the distance. She wanted to lean into Henry and get cozy against him. She looked up and realized he wasn’t watching the movie. He was watching her, his fists lightly clenched. They stared into each other’s eyes.
“I wish I had a hat on right now,” Henry said with a short laugh.
Kat finally did what she’d been wanting to do for days. Her fingers tingled as she slowly inched them toward Henry. His eyes closed as she ran the tips of her fingers over the soft wisps of his hair, from his forehead to behind his ears. She let her hand rest at the nape of his neck.
The sound of the front door opening had them springing apart.
“Just hear those sleigh bells ringing and jing ting tingaling, toooooo,” Josh sang off-key and loudly. “Heyyyyy, kids,” he slurred as he stumbled into the living room.