Jingle Bell Harbor (A Bell Harbor Novella)

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Jingle Bell Harbor (A Bell Harbor Novella) Page 4

by Tracy Brogan


  “That is so tempting,” I said, “Really, very tempting, but I’m afraid I should call it a night. Alberta Schmidt from next door is keeping an eye on my grandma, and if I leave them alone for too long, they’ll both be drunk by the time I get home. Rain check, though. I’m looking forward to the planetarium.”

  He looked disappointed, and for a moment I could see him as he used to be in high school, sweet-faced and naïve. It was gone in a flash, though. So fast it might have been a trick of those twinkle lights again.

  “Okay. Rain check. I work in the morning anyway. Can’t mold young minds very well with a hangover. At least I’m not supposed to. But yeah, the planetarium sounds cool. How about Friday?”

  My brain was on vacation time even if I hadn’t actually gone on one. Not being in the office, I wasn’t sure what day it was. “Isn’t tomorrow Friday?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, tomorrow is Friday.”

  I needed more time before seeing him again. It may have just been my fatigue or the booze or all the good laughs about days gone by, but I was feeling an overwhelming urge to kiss him. And then some. He was charming and adorable and wicked sexy in that damn tuxedo, and I was feeling all sorts of something. Something good. Something irresistible. Something wonderful. But I had Blake to consider, and I didn’t like the idea of overlapping one man with another. That seemed tacky. There should be some sort of grieving period. Or grace period or something. I mean, what is the proper protocol? Could I drunk-text Blake right now and tell him we were through? Mmm, better not. Because he wasn’t just my boyfriend. He was also my boss.

  “There’s something I should probably tell you,” I said, toying with the straw in my now-empty glass. “Maybe it’s no big deal, but I just feel like I should mention it.”

  “Okay.” He slid his hands into his pockets.

  “Um, I sort of . . . I guess I have a boyfriend at the moment.”

  “You guess you have a boyfriend?”

  “Yes, sort of. It’s complicated.”

  Drew nodded. “Would this be the guy who went to Hawaii without you?”

  “You heard about that?” How the hell did he hear about that?

  “I heard you talking at the Christmas tree lot. Actually, you were screeching like a pterodactyl. I think everyone heard you.”

  Well, that was embarrassing. And kind of annoying. “You’ve been flirting with me the whole night while knowing I have a boyfriend?”

  For that I got a soft chuckle followed by sexy smirk. The bastard. “You’ve been flirting with me the whole night, too. I think we’re even. Besides, he sounds like a crappy boyfriend.” He said that as if that made everything clear. But it didn’t. It just made me wonder if he was actually interested in me or just testing out his flirting prowess.

  Still, I nodded. “Blake can be a little crappy sometimes.”

  He rolled his eyes. “See, right there, I already don’t like him. Never trust a guy named Blake.” He said Blake, but it sounded more like Blech. Like the noise you make when scraping something off the bottom of your shoe.

  I bit back a smile. “And why is that?”

  “Because guys named Blake can’t be trusted. Everybody knows that. Jerks in movies are named Blake. And they make terrible boyfriends. He sounds bad.” Drew was teasing, but he was very convincing.

  “He didn’t start out bad. And he’s not that bad now. It’s just, well, like I said, it’s complicated.”

  I could explain that Blake was now my boss and that ending the relationship would impact more than just my personal life, but people always got that look on their faces when I said I was dating my boss. The look that said, “Oh, that’s how you got the job.” And that wasn’t how I got my job. I got my job from plain old hard work. I was a dedicated Haskell’s employee long before I got romantically involved with Blake, and I’d practically become one of the family. So I didn’t think breaking up with him would mean the end of my illustrious career in the holiday bric-a-brac industry, but I did think that I needed to end things with some integrity, especially before jumping into something new. Most people don’t need a letter of recommendation from their old lover, but I might. And in spite of Blake being relentlessly insensitive, I wasn’t. So I needed to handle this with some class.

  Drew nodded slowly. “Relationships can be complicated.”

  “Yes, sometimes.”

  It was nice of him to understand. I guess. So why did I feel disappointed? Probably because what I really wanted him to say was, “Dump the asshat and run away with me.” Even if I modestly demurred with, “No, I can’t, but thanks for the offer,” it still would have been nice for him to ask. I don’t know why men think women are so complicated.

  I pulled in half a breath. I really needed to get this dress off before I fainted from lack of oxygen. “But I want you to know that I’ve had a great time tonight, and I really am looking forward to the planetarium.”

  His smile was enigmatic. “Me, too. How about you just let me know when you want to go?”

  Again, a little fuss, a little insistence might have been nice. “Are you in stealth flirting mode again, or do you just not really care when we go?”

  Drew, to his credit, laughed. “Yes, I care when we go. I’d like to go tomorrow, but I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. You know, we can keep it casual.”

  Casual? How casual? Like buddy casual? Or like sex-buddy casual? Either way, I was too tired tonight to figure it out, and I really did need to get home to Grandma. She and Alberta Schmidt were probably on their tenth Manhattan by now. Getting her into bed when she was nonambulatory and wasted would be quite a challenge.

  “Casual is good. It’s good. And tomorrow is good, I guess. Friday is good.” I was rambling again. Very impressive.

  “Good,” he said, smiling. “Friday it is. How about I pick you up at a casual and platonic seven o’clock?”

  “Perfect.” Platonic was perfect. I guess.

  Drew

  Platonic? What the hell made me say that? It was just going to be tenth grade science tutoring all over again.

  Chapter 4

  MY SISTER ERIN LIVED IN an expensively landscaped, gated community in a six-bedroom Taj-Mahouse right on the shore overlooking Lake Michigan. The place was roughly the size of Miami and provided a great view of the snow-covered beach below, as well as the distant frozen pier. Inside, the décor was cozy, inviting, and wonderfully diverse, for which I could claim full credit. I was a master at finding flea-market treasures and vintage antiques, but since my apartment was full, I passed my best finds on to Erin. Fortunately for me, she had the room to support my habit, but at some point I was going to have to find another location.

  Erin’s husband, Pete, was some big muckety-muck at a company that designed high-end yachts. Not that there is any such thing as a low-end yacht, but Pete designed watercraft for the top one percent of the one percenters. Erin, meanwhile, worked part-time in the marketing department for a paint manufacturer. Not because they needed the extra cash, but because she enjoyed choosing names for paint colors, like Kiss Me Coral and Periwinkle Pursuit.

  “Is it safe in here?” I called out, walking into her two-acre kitchen and tossing my burgundy parka over the back of a chair. “Is everyone done with the puking?”

  Erin was sitting at an oversized, factory-distressed table sipping coffee from her Best Mom in the World cup. She didn’t look distressed herself, though. She looked comfortable in dark jeans and a pink cashmere sweater.

  “I believe we are done with the puking,” she answered. “All the kids finally fell asleep by midnight and I’ve already disinfected the entire house. Besides, I don’t think it’s contagious. Turns out Abbie left a salad on top of the bookcase for the Elf on the Shelf, and the other two ate it. Including the ranch dressing. I have no idea how long it had been sitting out.”

  “Oh, that is nasty.”

  “Yes, it is, but at least it explains the funky smell that Pete and I have been trying to track down.” Erin got up to p
our me a cup of coffee as I sat down in the chair next to hers. “I talked to Grandma this morning,” she said. “She sounded good. Oh, and Mom and Dad called. They offered to come back from Tanzania but I told them not to bother. I hope you don’t mind.”

  My parents had shared a well-timed and simultaneous midlife crisis. On a whim, they’d decided to retire early from their corporate jobs and travel the world. So far they’d seen the pyramids of Egypt, the Roman Colosseum, and the Great Wall of China, which my dad liked to refer to as “China’s Really Big Wall.” Currently they were in Africa chasing zebras and giraffes, which was why they would not be home for Christmas.

  I moved the irritatingly cheerful evergreen centerpiece from my line of sight before answering. “No, of course I don’t mind. No sense in everyone missing vacation, and by the time Mom and Dad got home, Grandma would be back to normal. Well, normal for her, at least.” My grandma was far from standard issue, and the same went for her ancient posse of friends, too. They were all nutty. “A couple of ladies from her fantasy football league came over to take her to breakfast this morning. I swear, even with a broken hip, she has a more active social life than I do. If it wasn’t for her needing someone at her house during the night, she would have been fine without me.”

  Erin nodded. “I’m sorry I’m not more help. Even with her on the mend, my three little maniacs and Grandma’s broken hip are a bad combination. All we need is for one of them to knock her down and break the other side.” She set a cup of coffee in front of me, and I watched the steam slowly twirl upward. “But speaking of social lives, how was your night last night?”

  She sat back down and sipped her coffee as I paused, wondering what to share. Then I decided to share it all. Every last bit.

  “My night last night was interesting. I bought Drew Hampton.”

  She coughed as the coffee went down the wrong tube. “You what?”

  “At a bachelor auction. Paid top dollar for him, too. Two hundred bucks.” I filled her in on all the tidbits from last night’s event, leaving no detail unrevealed, including my heightened ambivalence about Blake versus my sudden attraction to all things Little Junior. “But I’m in a bit of a quandary,” I added. “I got an e-mail from Blake last night. Listen to what it says.”

  I pulled up the e-mail on my phone and read it to my sister.

  Dear Kelsey,

  I was stupid to come to Hawaii without you. It’s not nearly as fun as it should be and this has made me realize a lot of things. In fact I’ve been thinking about all kinds of stuff while I was stuck in the airplane. A guy can get bored on such a long flight all by himself, ya know? Anyway, I think you and I make a pretty good team. I know you’re probably still mad that I took this trip without you, but when I get back we can smooth things out. I want you to know I’ve been thinking a lot about our future. I have big plans for us. Good stuff! I’ll give you a call when I get back to Michigan. Stay warm in that cold weather. It’s eighty-four degrees and sunny here. You’d love it!

  Talk to you soon, babe!

  B.

  “Plans for the future? What’s he talking about?” Erin set her coffee cup back down on the table.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. It sounds kind of . . . proposaly, doesn’t it?”

  She squinted at me. “That sounds proposaly to you? Wow, you really have no idea what a crappy boyfriend he is if that’s what you accept as romantic. I’ve gotten porno spam that was more romantic than that.”

  I plunked my phone down and picked up my coffee. “I didn’t say it sounded like a proposal. I just think all that stuff about future plans and us being a good team together and stuff is significant. Blake isn’t all that great at expressing himself so I have to read between the lines.”

  “I think you are giving him way more credit than he deserves, Kelsey. Nowhere in that e-mail does he apologize for leaving you behind. He says he’s not having fun, not that he’s sorry. He doesn’t even say he misses you.”

  I picked up my phone and reread the e-mail to myself, as if I hadn’t read it a dozen times since receiving it last night. Like so many things about Blake these days, I could not decide how I felt about this latest communication.

  “And he brags about the warm, sunny weather,” Erin continued. “That’s just mean when we are sitting here in eight degrees of frozen. And how about asking how Grandma is? Does he mention her at all?”

  My sister was analyzing this from an entirely different angle. I’d been looking for ways to give Blake the benefit of the doubt. She had no such compulsion.

  “You never have liked Blake. Why is that?”

  “Because he’s a douchebag, that’s why. He’s neglectful. He forgot your birthday, he didn’t send you flowers on Valentine’s Day, and if memory serves, he didn’t get you anything for Christmas last year, either, and he owns a frickin’ Christmas store.”

  She was correct on all counts. “But that’s just about stuff. I don’t need stuff from him just because the calendar says so.”

  She leaned back in her chair. “Okay, when’s the last time he did something nice for you? Not even big, but just something sweet and thoughtful? Something that was about you and didn’t benefit him in some way?”

  That was a stumper. I thought back over the two years we’d been seeing each other. Although it wasn’t two years solid, because there had been a few gaps in there when we weren’t really dating. In fact, I couldn’t even say when our first real date was, because we’d done a lot of social things together with his family and coworkers, and sometimes Blake and I would hook up afterward. And sometimes we wouldn’t. But somewhere in there we’d talked about being exclusive, and then we were. And then we’d started planning our trip to Hawaii.

  “Stop staring at me. I can’t take the pressure,” I said to Erin as my mind struggled to come up with a satisfactory answer. “Blake is not a gesture kind of guy.”

  “Okay, well, let’s say that this is his ass-backward way of hinting at a proposal. Do you think you want to marry him? Become Mrs. Blake Haskell and be stuck with the babes in Toyland for the rest of your life? Lately you seem as frustrated with your career as you do with him.”

  Nice shot, Katniss. “What makes you say that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the increasingly disparaging remarks you’ve made about your job or your irrationally hostile reaction to anything having to do with Christmas?” She reached over and moved the cheerful centerpiece back to its rightful place.

  “I’m not hostile.”

  “You punched Drew Hampton in the arm at the tree lot. That seems hostile to me.”

  “That was an accident.”

  “All right, I’ll grant you that. But you have to admit, you’ve been grouchy about the holidays, and I just feel like it has to do with more than Blake and this trip.” She gave a quick squeeze to my wrist. “You can tell me. What’s up?”

  I hated it when she was right, especially when she was being nice about it. It made me all watery in the eyes. “I don’t know. I just feel . . . stuck. Trapped. I do need a new job. I love being a buyer, but I’m so over seeing nothing but Christmas merchandise. It’s monotonous. I’ve worked at Haskell’s since college, and the family is nice enough, but I’ve been around for so long that everyone treats me like one of the kids. They take me for granted and assume I’ll just be happy with whatever chores they give me. Like I’m just always going to be around and I’ll always say yes to everything. Because I always am, and I always do.”

  I hadn’t really thought this out before, and my own admissions surprised me.

  Erin slowly arched an eyebrow. And then it hit me. The similarities between my job and my relationship with Blake. Because that’s exactly how he treated me, too! In both our work life and our personal life. I was dependable and convenient. And always available. I was there for him whenever he needed me, but that didn’t mean he was there for me. He wasn’t supportive enough to postpone a vacation even when my dear, sweet old granny broke her hip. Okay, sure.
Realistically she was not remotely sweet. But she was dear, at least to me. Either way, I continually let Blake take advantage of my accommodating nature. He was thoughtless and forgetful and self-absorbed. So much so that going on our vacation without me seemed acceptable to him. What the hell? That wasn’t okay. I deserved more. I deserved better. But it was up to me to get it.

  And just like that, I had an epiphany all over my sister’s tiled kitchen floor.

  “So you’re going out with Big Junior Hampton’s boy tonight, huh? He’s a tall drink of eggnog, that one. If I was forty years younger, oh what I could do to him.” Grandma puckered up her lips and made kissy sounds from her spot on the lavender sofa in her living room. Unlike my sister’s house, Grandma’s place was small and cluttered, with every room painted some variation of purple. It was so much purple, even grapes would think it was too much. Currently, she was surrounded by stacks of paperback books, most of which had scantily clad lovers in a clutch on their covers.

  “We’re just friends, Grandma,” I said, setting my purse on the front hall table. “And maybe you should try some new reading material. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you keep reading that racy stuff.”

  “Nonsense. That’s what keeps me young. Keeps my motor running.”

  The front door swung open and banged against the wall. In whooshed Dody Baker, a blur in a shimmery red coat and leopard-print boots. She’d volunteered to keep Grandma company while I was at the planetarium. A hazardous choice, for certain, but she was available and I didn’t think the two of them could get into too much trouble together since Grandma couldn’t currently drive a getaway car.

  “I’m here. Have I missed anything?” Dody kicked off her boots, dropped an oversized, overstuffed plaid purse on the floor, and flung her coat at the coatrack, missing it by about three feet. It landed in a heap on the floor next to a potted poinsettia.

  Grandma shook her head. “He hasn’t arrived yet. Make some popcorn and we can watch it all unfold from here.”

 

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