Keeping Christmas

by Rebecca Blevins

  She heard his sirens go on. "Nah. You already have me."

  Paige shook her head and grinned as they got off the phone.

  About ten o'clock Wednesday night, when she was busy baking snowball cookies, Wes called. She dusted powdered sugar off her hands and answered, putting him on speaker so she could work while they talked.

  Wes got right down to business. "Here’s the thing. I feel bad running you ragged like this, even though you're being compensated well for your time."

  Paige laughed at that. She'd used the whole budget on the food, so she'd be paying for her own gas. It was a good thing she was staying the night at the Stay Inn for free. "Yeah, I don't know what I'll spend it all on, but I'll be a zombie by then and not thinking for a while anyway, so it's okay. Plus, I'm excited about having my first real event."

  "Well, I have an idea . . . but I don't know if you'd be interested." His voice held a teasing tone.

  "I don't know. Depends." What was he up to?

  "You've been working really hard, and it's not going to be over until tomorrow night. So why don't you bring a dress and go with me? After all, we'll be there together, and I'll help you keep the drinks and tables filled, so you know, it really just makes sense. That way, you can dance a song or two—you know, relax a bit." She heard the smile in his voice, and he couldn't hide his hopefulness.

  A bit of excitement rose in her chest. "Well, since you put it that way—looking out for my welfare—I suppose I could bring a dress. Nothing too fancy, mind you. But something befitting a person of my lowly catering station." She knew just the dress, too. It was dark blue and made her skin look creamy white, yet was easy to move in and didn't need to be dry cleaned.

  "'Lowly catering station'—whatever. You're a catering goddess, I'm sure. It's a date, then." He caught himself and recovered. "I mean, it's a relaxation intervention, then."

  They hung up, and Paige sighed in contentment. She put the last of the cookies on the cooling rack, and even though she had lots left to do, went to her closet to find shoes to go with her dress for tomorrow night.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Thursday, December 31st

  New Year’s Eve

  By five o'clock on Wednesday, Paige was already worn out. She'd just finished packing up the last of the food for the Winstons' lavish event and sent it off in the van with Ron. The Snow Ball started at eight o'clock, and it took about an hour and twenty minutes to drive there. That left her an hour and forty minutes to get back to her apartment, load up the food she'd pre-made, grab her clothes, and get to the community center in time to set up.

  Thank goodness she already knew what equipment they had, so she didn't have to borrow chafing dishes or anything. Wes was taking care of anything he could purchase on his end that didn't have to be done really early, like the punch ingredients. Still, she'd be cutting it close, and she was already running on fumes.

  She rummaged around in her purse and found a granola bar, then ate that as she drove home. Thankfully she'd already packed all the non-perishables into boxes, so as soon as she loaded those, she made another trip to get everything she'd kept prepared in the refrigerator. Then she ran back and grabbed her purse, her overnight bag, and a banana, and hurried to her car.

  There. She programmed the address into her GPS and settled into her seat, opening her banana once she got on the highway. She'd get there just past seven. Not ideal, but still enough time to pull everything together.

  She'd been driving for twenty minutes, listening to Christmas music, when Wes called. She put on her headset and answered. "Hi, Wes! I'll be there right past seven, so be ready to jump out and unload everything super quick."

  "Great! You’re amazing. I don't know how you did it all."

  "Well, I didn't! I had this really nice guy helping me. And he's helping me again tonight. We'll see if he still thinks the same once I've run him ragged." She was excited to work with him in the kitchen again. And to dance with him, too. The thought gave her a rush of happiness.

  "I know for a fact he’ll still think you’re amazing. Hey, I don't want to distract you while you're driving, so I have two questions for you. One, where would you like the punch set up? And two, what color is your dress? I should probably wear a tie that goes with it, since we're both on the catering team and all."

  Her dress! Panic engulfed her. She'd taken her overnight bag, but she'd put her dress, shoes, and earrings in a garment bag so she would have everything in one place. And it was in one place—hanging on the back of her bathroom door. The only thing she had was her locket, which she’d placed on a stronger chain so it wouldn't break. She'd taken to wearing it all the time.

  Her heart sank. "Wes, I hate to tell you this, but I just realized I left my dress at home. I ran out so fast, I forgot it. I'm sorry." Her throat grew tight. No. She wouldn't cry over something so stupid.

  "Hey, it's okay. You can dance in jeans as well as in a dress."

  Wouldn't that be a sight—her blue jeans in the middle of a room filled with fancy dresses? "I'd feel really out of place. I'll probably stay in the kitchen when I'm not checking on the food."

  "Don't worry about the dress. Just get here, and I'll help you figure it out." He tried to hide his disappointment, but she heard it in his voice.

  They hung up so Wes could get the punch table ready, and Paige was left with her thoughts, mentally kicking herself over and over. She'd looked forward to being Wes's date—because come on, no matter what they called it, that's what it had been—more than she'd admitted to herself.

  Oh, well, maybe it was for the best. Though without black pants and a white blouse, she’d still be underdressed for her role.

  Maybe no one would notice. Caterers were never part of the event—just the scenery.

  Paige pulled into the community center parking lot, and Wes was there, waiting. She got out, and he immediately gave her a huge hug. She wanted nothing more than to stay in his comforting embrace, but there was work to be done. "Ready to be run ragged?" she asked.

  He grinned. "Give me some orders, boss."

  They placed the food on tables covered with white cloths close to the kitchen. The main room was decorated with strings of clear lights. Real evergreen trees stood in clusters in the corners, also strung with lights. The whole thing reminded Paige of a winter fairyland. Wes noticed her staring and said, "Isn't it great? Rachel had the idea, and she spent hours putting up the lights while I was on shift."

  "It’s gorgeous," Paige replied.

  They worked so fast that everything was ready at ten minutes until eight. Not as early as Paige would've liked, but only a few people had shown up already, so they were doing okay. She went back to the kitchen, where Wes wiped down a counter. "Everything’s ready!" she announced, grinning like a fool.

  "You did it." He pulled her into a huge hug.

  "We did it," she said, muffled against his T-shirt. She could have stayed there forever, but instead, she stepped back. "You'd better change before more people get here."

  Wes ran a hand through his brown hair, making it stick up a bit. She loved how it looked that way. "I left Rachel a message to see if she had a dress you could borrow, but I haven't heard back yet. The catering team should match, don't you think? Even if I stay dressed like this." He winked.

  Paige wanted to say yes, but doing so wouldn’t be fair to him. "Wes, as the director of these sorts of things, you need to be out among your people. If Rachel brings a dress, great. But you should get ready regardless."

  Wes studied her. "I see your point. You’re wonderful, you know that? I don't like leaving you this way, but I guess I have to." He sighed and left, and Paige turned her attention to making sure the extra punch was in the freezer, chilling.

  Five minutes later, Rachel came in. She was gorgeous in a slinky gold dress, her red curls tamed to perfection. She had them up and cascading down her back and over her shoulders. "Paige!" She tiptoe-ran and flung her arms around Paige.

  Paige squeezed her
back. "You’re gorgeous! And you did such a beautiful job on the room."

  Rachel released her. "Ha, ha, thanks. It's one of the perks of being an artist." She looked Paige up and down and frowned. "Why aren't you dressed? Wes told me you were his date tonight."

  Paige shrugged. "I forgot my dress. It's in my bathroom at home."

  Wes returned, and if she'd thought he was good-looking before, now he was practically a god. He wore a charcoal suit with a dark blue tie that brought out his eyes. Paige swallowed hard and tried not to stare. "Do I clean up okay?" he asked.

  Paige nodded. Rachel went up to him and straightened his tie. It hadn't needed straightening. She patted his shoulder and said, "Yes, you do, and you know it." She winked at Paige. "He's always so falsely modest."

  Wes shook his head and tugged at his cuffs. "Rachel, did you get my message?"

  "What message? If you called me after five, my phone was dead. I actually brought the charger to plug it in here, if it's not in the way."

  Paige motioned to an outlet. "Help yourself."

  "Thanks." Rachel plugged it in. "What was the message about?"

  "Nothing," Paige said.

  At the same time, Wes said, "Paige forgot her dress, so I was asking if you had an extra."

  Rachel's eyes widened. "I’m sorry! Paige, I should've offered the second you told me. I'll run back and see if I have something that could work. They're not very fancy—I only have this more formal one—but I'm sure I can find something better than jeans."

  Paige didn't want to cause more drama. She waved her hand in dismissal of the idea. "Oh, you're sweet, but that’s not necessary. It's probably better if I stay in these clothes—I wouldn't want to chance ruining anything of yours."

  Rachel protested, but they heard the mayor welcome everyone, then the music started. It was go time, and too late to worry about dresses. Rachel turned to Paige. "Do you mind if I dance with Wes?"

  Paige answered, "Not at all." She smiled at Rachel, but her heart sank. She'd wondered how she'd feel seeing Wes again, and found that she cared more for him even more than she'd let herself admit.

  Rachel took Wes's arm, and he looked at Paige apologetically. "I'll be back in a bit to check on things."

  "Don't worry about it." She motioned at them. "Go! Have fun!"

  For the next while, Paige kept busy refilling trays. She served mini quiches, various fancy bars and cookies, and hot artichoke dip with assorted breads and vegetables. Not a huge number of items, but all good, solid crowd pleasers. She refilled the punch bowl with the iced cranberry-apple concoction that more than one person called "refreshing." By all accounts, her venture had been a success. Then why did she feel such a sinking in her heart?

  It certainly didn't help that every time she went out to the main room, she looked for Wes. She couldn't help herself. One time, he stood in a group of ladies, and they were obviously enthralled with him. He even danced with one of them, even though she was old enough to be his mother—or grandmother. Then he was engaged in a spirited discussion with Judge Gatlin, and his ringing laugh carried over to her ears. If only she could hear what he was saying. About thirty minutes in, Wes came to the kitchen to see if she needed help, but she assured him she was fine and sent him back into the crowd.

  Paige refilled the punch, almost spilling it when she glanced up and saw Wes dancing with Rachel. A person would have to be blind not to notice the camaraderie between the two. Every time Rachel said something funny, cocking her head in that way she had and gazing up at him, Wes threw his head back and laughed. They moved together beautifully, as if they'd been dancing for years.

  Paige lingered over a tray, moving raspberry tarts and fudge around with a pair of tongs, even though they were already arranged. Rachel and Wes finished a dance, then Wes began talking to her, telling her something in earnest. The love on Rachel's face was unmistakable. She shone like a beacon of undying devotion.

  Paige's heart dropped to her feet, and she dropped the tongs, spun, and made it to the kitchen before her eyes began stinging. She went outside into the bracing cold and drew long, slow breaths, willing herself not to cry. She could no longer deny that no matter how quickly it had happened, she was falling for Wes. But as much as she cared for him, she couldn't ignore the truth laid bare on Rachel's face. Paige had thought that Rachel might have had feelings for Wes, but she'd been sure it was a schoolgirl kind of crush.

  But now, Paige also couldn't deny that Wes belonged with Rachel.

  The door opened, letting out a stream of light, illuminating the garbage cans and field of snow beyond the parking lot. "Hey, everything okay?" Wes asked. "What are you doing out here?"

  Paige forced herself to sound normal. "I got a little warm in there, so I came out for some air. But I'm ready to go back in now."

  He held the door open. "I have to tell you, this is a big success. Everyone has told me how much they love the food, and that it's the best Snow Ball yet." The door closed behind them, and Wes leaned against it, smiling at her with his gorgeous blues. Her heart twisted painfully. Something must have given her away because his brows came together in concern and he stepped close to her. “Paige, what’s—”

  Rachel came into the kitchen and stopped, flustered at the sight of them standing there. She recovered quickly. "Bobby swiped the rest of the snowball cookies, not that I can blame him. Do we have any more?"

  Paige folded her arms, embarrassed. Wes leaned in and whispered in her ear, "We'll talk later.” Both hope and sadness filled her heart, and Paige could only nod and smile at him. She handed Wes another tray of cookies, and he and Rachel left the kitchen again.

  The clock on the dash clicked over from 11:59 to 12:00. Paige swiped a tear away with the back of her hand. She would not cry. Not over someone she'd met barely a week ago. Not over a man who should be in love with a girl who so clearly loved him. Who was perfect for him.

  She only wished she'd find what Rachel had with Wes. That's exactly what her heart wanted, and stupidly had begun believing she'd found—at least in the early stages. Maybe she should go be a cook in a nunnery so she'd never have to worry about this sort of thing ever, ever again. Did nunneries hire cooks? Or would she actually have to become a nun to do that? She wasn't Catholic.

  Now she was just thinking stupid things to keep her mind off the fact that after she'd boxed up the last of the food, and Wes and Rachel were out in the main room wiping off tables, she'd tossed the few tools she’d brought into a grocery sack and taken off.

  Not that she'd wanted to leave, but she couldn’t be there at midnight. She’d be lying to herself if she hadn’t hoped Wes would kiss her the second the New Year rang in. Maybe he would have. But if only Wes knew Rachel’s true feelings, Paige would be in his rearview mirror so fast, she'd get hit with gravel spray.

  She wasn't mad at him—he probably had no idea how Rachel felt about him, let alone how he felt about Rachel. But Paige couldn't stand in the way of something so . . . destined. And she sure as anything wasn't going to stick around and watch it happen. Better to yank the splinter out than prolong the agony. And hey, her first solo catered event had gone really well. So there was that. With Wes's help, of course.

  Her phone rang. Wes. She didn't answer.

  The phone rang seven more times before it stayed silent. She'd told Judge Gatlin that she had a headache and was leaving early, and to please let Wes know so he wouldn't worry that something had happened to her. Wes must have gotten the message.

  The night passed by slowly, all too slowly, outside her car. Long miles of gray road and partially illuminated white fields, broken by lit-up billboards. Someone shot off illegal fireworks in the distance.

  Well, Paige, she thought, Happy New Year.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Friday, January 1st

  New Year’s Day

  It was noon by the time Paige woke up. She stumbled to the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Puffy face, smeared mascara. Her hair had flyaways everywher
e, and it was half out of the sleek knot she'd put it in last night.

  Her mouth tasted like death, so she brushed her teeth. She'd let herself cry herself to sleep once she'd gotten home, but it was time to get herself together. She spat, rinsed her mouth, and stood up straight, staring at her messy reflection. "Come on, Paige. We can do this."

  She threw herself into her business projection ideas. Wes aside, she'd really loved doing that party for the same reason she loved Christmas with her family. There wasn’t much better than bringing people together to bond and share and enjoy each other's company. And if for some reason they didn't want to be there? Then at least they could sit and enjoy the food.

  Advertising on Craigslist and in the newspaper was a start. She could also begin a social media campaign and hire someone to help design her website. All she needed were a few more events, and people would start recommending her services. That's how those things went. And when she got busy enough, she could rent a small place and turn it into a commercial kitchen. Maybe even have a little café or store out front where she could sell some of her wares when she didn't have any events—make the most use of her space.

  So Paige spent the next few hours making plans, keeping as busy as she could. When she could no longer ignore her growling stomach, she made herself a sandwich with cranberry spread and cream cheese, because why not, it was still the holiday.

  Then her phone rang.

  Wes.

  She wanted to let the call go to voicemail, as it would be painful to hear him speak. She never should have let herself get so attached, but then again, she didn’t really have a choice. Falling for him had just kind of happened. He deserved a bit of closure too, if he'd even experienced the slightest bit of what she had.