“I’m busy,” I say, giving a brief smile before looking back at Harold.
“…response was prompt but not the kind I wanted to hear,” Harold says. “And I sincerely believe that while Jane is allowed her beliefs, it’s only right for James to meet his new step-mother and so I sent her another e-mail, trying to persuade –”
“Madeline, would you like to dance?” Ethan says, putting extra pressure on my back. Speaking of which, why is his hand still on my back? Oh my gosh, can’t this guy realize that I’m kind of busy? I wish Jewel were here. If Jewel were here, Ethan would be so distracted, he probably wouldn’t have even noticed me and I would be able to fully hear Harold’s story.
“Oh, I can’t Ethan,” I tell him, trying my absolute best to sound polite. “I have to make sure nothing goes haywire.”
Harold chuckles at something I’ve completely missed, but it must have had to do with Melinda, since his eyes are on her and she’s smiling. “I didn’t realize it was that simple!” he says, shaking his head. “To think, I’ve been spending so much time trying to get Jane to talk to James when he’s been doing the same thing. Melinda took the reins and contacted James herself and explained the entire situation and, well I’m surprised to say –”
“Really Madeline, you look too lovely not to dance,” Ethan says. “Just one dance and that’s it. I have that picture of Jewel and me on my Facebook, you know. I know you said not to tag her, and I haven’t, but it’s my profile picture and I’ve been getting so many comments on it.”
“Hang on,” I say to Ethan before turning my attention back to Harold and Melinda because I just know we’re getting to the good part.
“And that’s how it happened,” Harold says, and I realize I’ve missed everything because Ethan needed attention and couldn’t seem to wait one minute to get it.
Jeez, I wish Jewel were here.
“You were saying something about Facebook?” I ask, my voice tinted with controlled frustration. I give him an expectant look, reminding myself that I need to keep everything together, especially since there are children around and it’s Christmas. “Oh, it’s your profile pic?”
“Yeah, and everyone’s commenting on it,” Ethan says.
Why is his hand still on my back? Obviously he doesn’t realize it is so I step out of his grasp and position myself in a way that keeps him from touching me again. Not that he would or anything – obviously he cares a lot about Jewel to have the two of them dancing as his profile pic – but I’m not good when my personal bubble is invaded by people I’m not exactly close to.
“I was hoping to get another one –”
“Oh, you can’t,” I tell him, realizing at that moment that Ethan doesn’t know Jewel’s not here. That’s probably why he was bugging me so much during Harold’s story. Duh! He was wondering where Jewel was. “Jewel has a cold. I’m sorry Ethan.”
“Oh…” He glances away, probably to hide the disappointment that is surely clouding his face. Men and their masculinity. “That’s horrible. Especially since Christmas is tomorrow…”
“I know, right?” My cell phone starts chirping, and I glance down at it. It’s an alarm. “Sorry Ethan, you’ll have to excuse me. I need to talk to Mr. Swift about something…” And before he can say anything else – maybe about how much he misses Jewel, and would I know the perfect gift to get her for the holidays? – I have to leave in order to remind Robert he has a speech to make.
It’s easy to spot him – he’s still surrounded by beautiful women – and I manage to squeeze between them in order to get next to him.
“Maddy!” he exclaims as though he’s happy to see me. He has that brilliant smile on his face – the one where his eyes crinkle and his face lights up like one of the Christmas trees – and I have to look away because my heart does that weird thump-thump thing that makes it easy to get sidetracked. “Oh my God, you look gorgeous.”
Surprisingly enough, Robert isn’t drunk yet. But maybe that’s because the first year we did this event, he got tipsy in front of children and the parents started complaining about what a bad influence he was on them. When I persuaded him to pay their medical bills, St. Jude’s was all too happy to have him back, and the parents forgave him, commending him on his generosity. Obviously he’s learned his lesson.
“Mr. Swift,” I say, a fake smile on my face. Maddy. He has to call me Maddy. “You have an important speech you have to give, don’t you? Like, right now?”
“Oh yes, of course,” he says, shaking his head. He looks at the crowd. “I’ll be back. The old ball and chain.”
Oh ha, ha, ha.
“Please tell me you’ve made a speech,” I say in a low voice as I lead Robert away from the group and over to the center of the room.
“Of course I have a speech.” He gives me a look and takes the waiting microphone from him. “Testing, testing. Is this thing on?”
I slink into the crowd, preferring to watch Robert do his thing at a distance. Whenever he’s making some kind of speech, he always seems to shine and it’s hard to look anywhere else.
“I guess I should start off by wishing everyone a Merry Christmas,” he begins, sliding his free hand into his pocket and easily slipping on his charming smile, tossing it around the room. Yes, Robert can captivate, that’s for sure. And he knows it too.
At his opening statement, many people clap and cheer, and a few women in the back – the women who had previously been so enraptured by one of his stories I’m sure I’ve heard at least twenty times - reciprocate the sentiment. “Christmas…” He lets his voice trail off as he looks at the faces. “Christmas never really had much significance for me when I was a child,” he confesses in a sure voice. “You know, since I’m a Jew and all.” I, along with the rest of the crowd, chuckle at his joke.
“But seriously, there’s an undeniable magic surrounding this time of year,” he continues. “And whether that’s religious or not for you, it doesn’t matter because it changes with the person. After my parents died, so did my childlike naivety concerning this magic. I used to dread the holidays, knowing I had no one to celebrate them with. Once I came out of that dark period in my life, I was persuaded to do something for the holidays. Not only do I visit orphanages and celebrate Hanukkah with them, but I hold this Christmas event at St. Jude’s. Besides the fact that I can’t resist a party, I hope to raise money that will provide children’s hospitals with the kind of magical Christmases, and Hanukkahs, and whatever faith, or lack thereof, I temporarily forgot. But then, someone reminded me.
“I know a person who gives a dollar to homeless person, even though they could easily turn around and spend it on booze. ‘Why punish those in desperate need for the few bad seeds?’ she would constantly ask me. Like I could answer that, right?” He smiles and I feel my breath hitch. He can’t possibly be talking about… “And the thing is, she doesn’t have enormous amounts of money to spare. This same person experienced a hard life growing up – though she won’t really talk about it so I have no idea about the details – but constantly tells me she doesn’t dwell on it because she knows there are people who have it worse than she does. She shows up to work on time every day, and has called me out whenever I get too entitled. Which, I’m sure you all know, is quite often.” More laughter, more constriction in my chest. “She’s always on my case about wasting paper, and has been there for me when I have needed her. And yes, she still believes in Santa Claus. Because even though she’s been through a lot, she still believes in that magic. Which has made me believe in that magic. I guess, as cheesy as it sounds, the magic comes from inside all of us. As unbelievable as it sounds, she’s made me believe again, and if I can provide that to even one of you, child or adult alike, then I’ve passed the magic along, which is what the holidays is all about.”
Somehow, he’s managed to find me through the crowd, and without even blinking, has captured my eyes with his. “So thank you,” he concludes, but it certainly sounds as if he’s talking directly to me…
“Madeline, I need to talk to you,” Ethan says over his shoulder.
“I can’t, Ethan, I have to –”
He pulls me down a secluded hallway and before I can blink, places his face on mine. Is he kissing me?! I reach up and push him off me.
“I knew it,” he says, a smile on his face. “You’re crazy about me, aren’t you?” Then he lunges at me again.
My head is spinning. I’m trying to get over that speech, and now Ethan McCoy is kissing me?
“What are you doing?” I ask him, dodging his second attack just in time. “What about Jewel?”
“Jewel?” he asks, tilting his head back and furrowing his brow. “What about Jewel?”
“You and Jewel,” I say as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Hello! My assistant, the woman you danced with at Simon’s club opening, the girl who is on your profile pic? I thought you were crazy about her?”
“What?” He actually looks offended by my suggestion. “Madeline, I have that picture up because you took that picture. I only talked to her because you were so insistent that we chat. Do you know who I am? Do you know who my father is?” He shakes his head, his hair falling into his face. “No. Jewel and I wouldn’t work. We’re in two separate classes. But you and me? We would work. You’re an assistant, yeah, but an assistant to Robert fucking Swift, and you have an amazing body, so that averages things out.”
And suddenly I realize that everything I’ve been doing, trying to help Jewel, trying to help Ethan, is for nothing. And it’s all my fault.
How could I have been so stupid? How could I have not seen the signs? That Ethan is possibly the biggest jerk on the face of the planet and that I’ve indirectly broken Jewel’s heart because I vouched for that guy?
Ethan seems to take my silence as something to his advantage because he tries to kiss me again. I push him away, harder this time, and slap him across the face.
“Bitch,” he says. “That’s my face, you know.”
And then he stalks off, like I’ve done something wrong.
Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe. I need fresh, cool air. I need to get out of here.
This is all my fault.
I make my way out of the hallway and through the crowd. I’m almost out the door when someone grabs my wrist. I lift my left hand, about to slap Ethan again, when I see Robert staring at me with a look of concern written on his face. Immediately, I drop my hand.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his warm brown eyes trying to read mine. I’m sure he can see the conflict in them, maybe even the tears that have started to form, but I hope he can’t. I don’t want him to see through me now.
“I’m fine, Robert,” I say in a surprisingly steady voice, “but I have to leave. Something came up and I have to leave. Good job. You know, with the speech. I’ll see you later. Merry Christmas.”
Before he can stop me, I hail a waiting cab out front and slide inside, completely forgetting about my driver.
I know Robert doesn’t believe me and I’ll have to tell him about it soon. Business is just like high school; rumors spread like wildfire. I know I’ll have to tell Jewel about how much I’ve messed up her love life and how much of a jerk Ethan is.
This is all my fault.
Shit.
Chapter 9
I truly believe that Christmas is what you make of it. I mean, I’ve been on my own the majority of my life since my parents died and my grandmother was too busy running her own preschool to think about me. In fact, now that I think about it, I think she thought of me as unwanted, maybe even a burden. But that’s all in the past. She died when I was eighteen, and since I don’t have any other family, I’ve been alone. But it’s not all that bad. I am who I am because of everything that’s happened to me, and I like myself very much.
I haven’t had a traditional Christmas since my parents were alive, and that was when I was four. I barely remember having a decorated Christmas tree, leaving homemade chocolate chip cookies and milk for Santa and some carrots and celery for his reindeer, or hanging stockings on the fireplace. And presents? I never really got presents – my grandma didn’t like giving me things, especially since she continued on and on about how she wasn’t religious. When I mentioned that many non-religious people still celebrated Christmas, she ignored me for the rest of the day. I learned to never broach the subject from that moment on, and that was that.
People from the office give me trinkets and chocolate now, but it’s never been serious. Robert always gets me elaborate and very expensive gifts – our first year together, he bought me a sports car which I promptly returned, telling him I liked my 2000 Nissan Maxima just fine – but he still thinks I’m spending Christmas with relatives he’s never met. He’s never asked about my family history and I’ve never offered up any information. It’s just something I don’t like to talk about.
But just because I’ve had a somewhat difficult life, I still think the act of living is magic. And Christmas and Hanukkah or whatever holiday someone is partial to just enhances life’s magic. Like, even though Grandma kept telling me how much of an atheist she was, she was decidedly nicer around Christmas than normal. Not to say she was mean or anything, but she acknowledged me more. And people just seem to be happier this time of year. Everyone is smiling and laughing and it’s just such an amazing time.
I get excited for Christmas, too. The best movies come out on Christmas Day, and I wrap Robert’s present on Christmas Day. It’s nice. I don’t have to worry about work or getting a phone call from Robert saying he’s in jail and needs me to pick him up, though that did happen last Valentine’s Day.
Currently, I’m in mismatched socks, loose pajama pants, and a loose sweater that falls off my right shoulder. My hair is in a messy braid, hanging over my right shoulder, and there’s a hot cup of hot chocolate with five mini marshmallows in it. I’m sitting on my windowsill, watching the cars pass by. I think it’s eleven o’clock in the morning, though I can’t be sure due to the overcast sky. But I actually like it when it’s overcast, especially on Christmas. Christmas shouldn’t be hot. Mild, maybe, but not hot. It detracts from the holiday, I think.
I’ll probably end up watching A Christmas Carol later this evening because it’s my favorite Christmas movie of all time, and then afterwards, I’ll put in The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It’s my own little tradition I’ve come up with that doesn’t make any sense. But any excuse to watch Tim Curry sing about being a sweet transvestite is perfectly acceptable in my book.
A knock surprises me, and it takes me a minute to stand up and head over to the door. I look through the peephole and frown when I see who it is.
Just what is he doing here, exactly?
I open the door and before I can say anything, or even ask if he wants to come in, Robert Swift walks past me and plops in my favorite armchair. As though he owns the place. And technically, my paychecks from him have provided me with this nice apartment, but still.
“I know,” he says as I close the door, muttering a smart retort under my breath. “I know exactly what you’re thinking. ‘Why aren’t you in Vegas like normal, Robert?’ But I decided to forego that pilgrimage this year. Nice socks, by the way. I thought you cared more about the way you look, but I like this, Maddy. You look so fresh and natural and relaxed.”
“I didn’t dress up for you because I wasn’t expecting you,” I tell him as I sit down on the couch. I lean over and grab my hot chocolate from the coffee table, taking a long sip before continuing. “Next time, I’ll make an effort to ensure my socks match. Just for you.”
“No, I like this,” he says, his eyes dropping so he can take in my full attire. I’m not actually embarrassed by my lack of professional outfit because it’s Christmas, he dropped by unannounced, and I’m just so darned comfortable. “You know, Maddy, I mean, I’ve always known you were
gorgeous, but seeing you like this…” He lets his voice trail off and I feel myself flush. I know I don’t look amazing, but does he have to point out that I don’t look as put together as I normally am?
“You look great,” he finishes. “Really, really great.”
I roll my eyes. Nice save, Robert. Nice save.
“Not to say that I don’t love it when you drop by unexpectedly on a holiday, but what are you doing here, exactly?” I ask. I set my cup back down after finishing the contents and pull my legs up so I can fit my chin in the small gap between them.
“What?” Robert asks. “I can’t visit you in order to wish you a merry Christmas?” He takes in my pointed stare and then slumps against the couch. A moment goes by, then two, before he sits up again and looks me directly in the eyes. “Well, Maddy, I know you know this, but I really don’t have anyone to spend Christmas with. I know Las Vegas is filled with people just like me, and normally, I like their company. But this time, I wanted to spend it with someone important to me, considering Christmas is family-oriented and everything.” A beat, and then he says something that gives me goosebumps. “You’re like family to me, Maddy. You are family to me. And I want to spend Christmas with you.”
“But you’re Jewish,” I blurt out.
He smiles. “You don’t have to tell me,” he says. “You know us Jews believe family is the most important thing, and even though we may not celebrate Christmas, I still want to be with family. Which is you, by the way.” He inhales softly, leaning back in the chair with his back still tense. “Unless, of course, you’re expecting company, and if that’s true, then I am up for introductions and the more the merrier sort of shindig.”
I smile, glancing down at my lap. I don’t know what compels me to say it, but I do. “I actually don’t expect any company.” I pause, pursing my lips together, considering whether or not I should continue. Well, he admitted a lot more than I expected him to. It would only be fair… “You’re my only family, too, Robert.”
Four Sides of a Triangle: An Austen & Cufflinks Novel (The Austen & Cufflinks Series Book 1) Page 8