Christmas with Carlie

by Julianna Morris

  Luke smiled wryly. She plainly didn’t want to talk and he was going to respect her wishes. This time.

  * * *

  CARLIE WAS ASTONISHED that Luke had actually proved helpful in getting the new purchases for the library unpacked and on the shelves. But then, he wouldn’t be such a hugely successful businessman if he dragged his feet.

  Her own tasks were stacking up. A nasty cold bug was going around her staff, so she kept falling further behind. ’Tis the season ran through her head whenever one of them called, coughing and sniffling. She just hoped it was the same cold she’d gotten a month before, because that way she might be immune. Meanwhile, she needed to handle all of her division’s responsibilities.

  After Luke left to check on Annie and Beth’s progress with their tutor, she wondered if he’d be back. Putting him to work had been rather brazen, but he was treating her as his family’s personal activities director, and with so much of her staff out, she didn’t have the time.

  If Luke did come back...? Carlie grinned. She had an important project that needed doing. And if he didn’t, that was okay, too. A few more nights working late wouldn’t matter, though her mother had suggested she just sleep in her office for all the good her bed was doing her.

  An hour later Carlie’s phone rang and she picked it up. “Carlie Benton.”

  “It’s Christine. Somebody ordered a truckload of food for the Old City Hall staff. We put everything in the lunch room, so come and get lunch while it’s hot.”

  Curious, Carlie went to the employee break area and saw four enormous stacks of pizza boxes, along with various large sacks holding entrée and salad containers from Giancarlo’s Little Italy.

  “Who’s this from?” she asked Christine, who was getting a slice of sausage-and-olive pizza.

  “Got me. I called Giancarlo’s and they said it was an anonymous thank-you. We’re sending a bunch over to Housekeeping and Maintenance.”

  “Sounds good.”

  In one of the large bags Carlie found several containers of pasta primavera and recalled mentioning to Luke that it was her favorite dish. But it didn’t seem likely that he was responsible. On the other hand, there was an excessive amount of food—probably enough to feed every Poppy Gold employee—and making a grandiose, over-the-top gesture might fit his persona.

  “My staff will be sorry they were out sick today,” Carlie said, snagging a container each of pasta primavera and Greek salad. “There’s nothing like a free lunch to perk someone up.”

  Christine chuckled. “You sneeze, you lose. Take enough to have leftovers the rest of the week. Bring dinner home to your parents, too.”

  “Nah, cooking relaxes Mom. It’s better than therapy.”

  “I wish I could say the same. I hate cooking. Fortunately, Jerry handles most of it, along with his share of the diapering. I swear, he’s a better parent than I am.”

  The familiar, wistful twinge went through Carlie. Christine was the proud mother of an adorable toddler. After Sean was born, she and her husband had begun alternating day and night shifts at Poppy Gold to save on child-care expenses, though they tried to keep the same days off for family time. Carlie tried not to envy them.

  She snagged another container of pasta primavera and a combination pizza, thinking it would be nice for her employees to have lunch available if they were well enough to come in tomorrow.

  “I’ll see you later,” Carlie said, deciding to eat at her desk.

  Another scavenger hunt had been scheduled for Friday and she couldn’t make any sense of Tim Mahoney’s notes; he must have been getting ill when he was making them. Finally she scrapped everything and started over.

  Shortly after 1:00 p.m., she got up and headed for the park. The Forty-Niners barbershop quartet was scheduled to perform in the bandstand, and no matter how busy she was, she couldn’t resist listening to part of the concert.

  The mellow tones of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” greeted Carlie as she crossed the street, sending warm waves of nostalgia through her. The Forty-Niners sang for most events in town and she could barely recall a time when they weren’t part of life in Glimmer Creek.

  Next came the “Carol of the Bells,” “Silent Night” and “Deck the Halls,” and then a string of songs popular with children, such as “Frosty the Snowman” and “Jingle Bells.”

  When they began singing “Let It Snow,” Carlie thought it was a shame the snowmakers weren’t there, showering everyone with white. Perhaps they could bring a couple of the machines to the park on Christmas Eve if it was cold enough. She added it to her mental list of things to talk over with Uncle Liam.

  “What are you thinking so intently about?” She jumped at the sound of Luke’s deep voice.

  “Cold weather actually.”

  “It’s certainly chilly in Glimmer Creek. Is this normal?”

  “We’re at a higher elevation than some of the other former gold camps, which means we get colder winters. But we’ve had more freezes than usual for this time of year. It’s perfect for the snowmakers.”

  “I was glad to learn Poppy Gold doesn’t use chemicals to make their snow.”

  “Perish the thought. We use good ole H2O.” Carlie was still mellow from the music and cascade of memories it had generated...memories from childhood when things had been simpler. Yet sadness quickly intruded; with their mother gone, Annie and Beth wouldn’t have the same kind of uncomplicated recollections about growing up.

  She almost asked if Luke had ordered the mountain of food for the staff and decided he would tell her if he was responsible and wanted them to know.

  “Where are Nicole and the girls?” she queried instead.

  “By the skating rink. They want to spend the afternoon with Nicole teaching them how to twirl. At least, that’s what Beth wants. Annie didn’t say much either way.”

  Carlie recalled Nicole’s angst over her relationship with her nieces and hoped the lesson would be successful...and that Annie wasn’t simply going along with her sister when there was something she wanted to do more.

  “Don’t you skate, Luke?”

  “Not a chance. Why don’t we go over and watch?”

  “Sorry, I have to get back to work. But have a nice afternoon.”

  * * *

  LUKE WAS AMUSED at having been more or less dismissed by Carlie. It was an unusual experience; ordinarily he was the one who decided when a meeting ended, rather than the other way around. Not that he had a professional relationship with her, but it also wasn’t social.

  Buying Carlie a decent vehicle as a bonus would help better define the relationship.

  He glanced around at the crowd listening to the concert. While he didn’t have much experience with barbershop quartets, the music was pleasant and melded with the historic atmosphere of Poppy Gold.

  Erika would have hated it.

  The errant thought made him frown, though it hadn’t been a criticism. His wife had liked jazz and rock, with a little Bessie Smith thrown into the mix. They’d been her father’s musical choices and Erika had wanted to emulate him in every way. Over the past year, Luke had sometimes wondered if she’d wanted to die in the line of duty like her father, too. Yet he also felt terrible for thinking it.

  Erika had been a dedicated soldier, not fanatical. She’d believed in the tradition of service. That was all.

  It was Luke’s nagging guilt that was making him second-guess everything. The hard truth was, Erika had seriously considered resigning her commission and he could have easily influenced her decision. Instead, he’d stayed silent.

  Wanting to shake off his grim mood, he headed for the skating rink as the barbershop quartet began singing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” Beth and Annie were watching Nicole demonstrate how to start a spin. He sat on one of the benches next to the rink and watched,
wishing he could see his daughters smile that way more often. Once they’d come tearing down the stairs when he’d arrived home, with excited hugs and descriptions of their day. Now the house was quiet, with no childish laughter. They stayed in their playroom.

  The girls’ counselors kept talking about the grief process and the need to move on. What did that mean, anyway? How did they move on from losing their mother?

  Erika had been one of a kind. Now Luke had to try to put their shattered lives back together and nobody seemed to agree on how to do it. At the urging of one grief counselor, he’d even gone on a few dates, only to have Beth and Annie ask if someone was going to take their mommy’s place.

  Hell, no hadn’t seemed like the best answer, so he’d simply told them it was way too early to think about that and not to worry.

  * * *

  CARLIE QUICKLY FINISHED the plan for the Friday scavenger hunt; it helped that she knew Poppy Gold inside and out. They didn’t have the kind of scavenger hunt where people collected specific items—instead, participants had to look for something like a unique architectural feature or a certain kind of birdbath and be able to say where it was located.

  Yet as she printed the pages on holiday paper, she wasn’t thinking about prizes or upcoming events...she was thinking about Luke Forrester. Maybe she should have gone and watched Annie and Beth skate. For all she knew, the girls had asked him to invite her.

  Sighing, Carlie collected two cups of coffee and went back outside. She could afford a short break. The Forty-Niners had finished their performance and the crowd had dispersed, but there was the usual activity over by the ice rink.

  Nicole and her nieces were still skating and Carlie spotted Luke on one of the bleachers. Christmas music floated through the air from speakers; the sound system had been turned on now that the live performance was over.

  “Here,” she said, sitting down and handing him the cup.

  “You must have read my mind,” he murmured. “These days I live on coffee.”

  “No wonder you don’t sleep.”

  Luke’s eyebrows shot upward. “How do you know that?”

  “Nicole mentioned you work most nights. You look pretty grim just now. Don’t you know that isn’t allowed at Poppy Gold? Disneyland may be the ‘Happiest Place on Earth’ but I like to think we’re the Christmasiest.”

  A corner of his mouth kicked up. “Christmasiest? Is that a real word?”

  “Why not? I’m sure it’s somewhere on the internet. Maybe even in a dictionary. So why are you so serious?”

  “I was mulling on life and reality.”

  “Oh.” Luke Forrester might be a pain, but he’d had a serious dose of reality when his wife died. “Sometimes reality sucks.”

  He let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah.”

  “Since you understand, would you like to help out people with too much reality and not enough Christmas?” she asked lightly. She figured doing something for others might help distract him from his troubles.

  His eyebrows rose again. “Excuse me?”

  “My staff volunteered to sort donations and fill Christmas baskets for the Glimmer Creek Rehabilitation Center. Also to wrap gifts for some of the seniors who live in the area. Unfortunately, my employees have all managed to get sick at the same time and I don’t want to wait until the last minute to get things ready. Everything is in a huge pile in the ballroom at Old City Hall, begging for a pair of strong shoulders.”

  * * *

  “SURE. WHY NOT?” Luke said. “It’s been a long time since I did more than donate money to chari—”

  “They’re gifts,” Carlie interrupted quickly. “Not charity. Some of the recipients are lower income, so we want to share with them, but others don’t have much family and need to know they’re remembered. Christmas is a lousy time to feel alone.”

  Luke was exasperated with himself. “You’re right.” He stood up. “Let me tell Nicole where I’ll be.”

  At the edge of the rink, he gestured to his sister, who skated over gracefully. “What’s up, Luke?”

  “I’m going to do something with Carlie over at Old City Hall, unless you need me.”

  “We’re fine. If the girls get tired, we’ll go back to the suite. Say, I just heard there’s a madrigal feast at the high school on Friday and Saturday. Kids are welcome and it would be fun to attend.”

  “I’m not sure what a madrigal feast is, but I’ll check into getting tickets. No doubt Carlie will know where to find them.”

  “No doubt.”

  She skated back to Beth and Annie, and Luke watched for another moment before returning to Carlie’s side.

  “Lead the way,” he told her.

  Luke hadn’t seen the second floor of Old City Hall. If he’d thought about it, he would have assumed it was more offices; instead, the open gallery above the staircase opened into a large ballroom with elaborate crystal chandeliers and numerous windows. Tables were set up on one end, covered with goods of various types.

  “Looks like a big project,” he commented.

  “The employees donate part of it and Uncle Liam and Tessa and her husband give the rest. The churches collect toys and books for kids and fill food baskets for younger families, so Poppy Gold focuses on seniors.”

  Carlie explained the items needed to be sorted first. Then they’d be distributed into baskets, which the volunteer fire department would deliver, along with the wrapped gifts. At first they worked in a comfortable silence, but after a while Luke cleared his throat.

  “Nicole wants to attend one of the madrigal feasts being held this weekend, but I’ve never heard of them.”

  “They’re a lot of fun. It’s a form of dinner theater. The high school has hosted madrigal feasts for almost forty years to raise money for their choral and drama program. The setting is the Middle Ages. You attend as if you’re guests at a high feast of the king and queen, who sit at the head table in costume with lords and ladies on either side. Jesters and other entertainers rove around the hall and each course of the meal is heralded with a traditional Christmas song.”

  It wasn’t something that normally appealed to Luke, but he could see Nicole and the girls enjoying the event.

  “Is there any difference between the two days?”

  “The menu varies, not the entertainment. On Friday evening they serve poulet du cloister, which is chicken and ham with small onions and mushrooms in a cream sauce. On Saturday, it’s roast beef with Yorkshire pudding.”

  “Which is your favorite menu?”

  “Both,” Carlie said promptly. “My mother has been in charge of the meal for years.”

  Luke hesitated. “What about your father? Is being left alone for that long a problem?”

  Carlie cut another length of wrapping paper. “Mom took early retirement to be available when Dad needed her, but he’s gone back to work now. He can’t do his old job, so he’s a flagger at construction sites. He hates it and has a hard time standing so long, but he doesn’t need nursing care...though it could be argued that he needs a dose of good sense.” Her tone betrayed both loving exasperation and worry.

  “Surely he received a settlement from the guilty driver—an insurance payout, at the very least.”

  “Yes, but he refuses to live off it. ‘A real man works,’” she intoned, obviously mimicking her father.

  Luke felt a wry familiarity. “Sounds like what I remember of my grandparents.”

  Carlie grinned, and for the first time since they’d met, he didn’t see any reserve in her eyes. “I suppose your mother and father would argue that if someone has money, they shouldn’t take a job from somebody else who doesn’t.”

  “I doubt they’ve bothered to think it through. They simply want to enjoy life without the daily grind of a job.”

  “Well, in defense of my work a
s an activities director, I think the ability to ‘play’ part of the time is a good thing. I just wish my father agreed.” Carlie stirred restlessly. “I understand his wanting to be useful and do something satisfying, but he’s important to our family, and when he’s in pain, we hurt, too.”

  “Surely there’s another job or volunteer project that would be easier physically.”

  “Probably, but he genuinely likes to build roads. He says it connects him to an ancient tradition that goes back to the Macedonians and Romans. At least as a flagger he has a small role. Mostly he wants everything to seem normal again, which is why Mom keeps doing the madrigal feasts.”

  Luke understood wanting life to be normal. It wouldn’t ever be that way again, but it didn’t stop him from wanting the impossible.

  “I’m not good at playing, either,” he admitted. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing—it just isn’t something I ever learned to do. To be honest, I was too critical of my parents to really join in with their adventures and I’ve been focused on school or my business ever since.”

  “I’m sorry.” Carlie looked sad and he wished he hadn’t brought it up. He didn’t feel sorry for himself and didn’t need anyone else to, either.

  “I was wondering if it would be outrageous if I bought tickets for both the meals,” Luke said, needing to lighten the mood. “We have to eat somewhere and the menus are interesting. On the other hand, I don’t want to exclude anyone from attending if the tickets are limited.”

  * * *

  CARLIE BLINKED. FROM what she’d observed, sensitivity wasn’t Luke’s strong suit.

  “It’s hard to say, but they sometimes end up with unsold tickets. You can buy tickets when the drama class is here. The Madrigal Feast Choir and Players are coming Wednesday through Friday to do short performances. It helps promote the dinner for Poppy Gold guests and they sell tickets at the same time.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “But if you go to the dinner on Saturday, be sure to visit the pedestrian shopping street when you get back. It’s hospitality night. There will be Victorian street entertainers, treats and all sorts of stuff.”