A Carol Christmas

by Roberts, Sheila

“Okay,” Iris said and hung up.

  I snapped my cell shut with a growl. Not to worry, my poppet. Right.

  Keira was coming out of the house now, her cell phone to her ear. “No, we’re not done looking, but I already know this house is the one. I’m sending you pictures. It’s absolutely incredible and worth every penny.”

  Easy for Keira to say, I thought, considering who was coughing up most of the pennies.

  “All right, I’ll keep you posted. We’re going to go have coffee, then look at some more.”

  Going out for coffee? Since when was that part of the house-hunting ritual?

  I frowned and marched to the car. I was going to go have coffee with Gabe Knightly and Cupid Keira while, back in New York, Opportunity said, “Oh, it looks like Andie’s not home,” and moved off to knock on other doors. Ta ta, Andie. Could this day get any worse?

  Chapter Five

  We picked up eggnog lattes at The Coffee Break, then, with me grinding my teeth and texting all the way, moved on to the next house: a split level in Carol Estates. The candy cane stencils and home drawn art displayed in the front windows announced, “Kids live here.”

  Gabe almost stumbled over a pile of shoes in the entryway.

  I watched as he pushed aside the small tennies and rain boots with his foot. A vision of a couple of kids who looked like me (not Gabe. There was no resemblance to him!) flashed through my mind. They splashed through a mud puddle in bright yellow rain slickers and little rubber boots and laughed. The background scenery in my vision looked more like Carol than New York, and that was all wrong.

  “The carpet’s worn,” Keira observed as she went up the stairs.

  I followed her to the first level. The living room looked tiny compared to the one in the previous house. But it was cozy. Someone was into knitting, and a half-finished blanket dangled from one arm of the couch.

  “This isn’t bad,” I said.

  My sister looked over her shoulder at me and raised an eyebrow.

  I shrugged and followed her into the kitchen. It looked like it had been completely overhauled. The cupboards practically smelled new.

  “I like this,” said Keira, Queen of Take Out.

  Those same little kids I’d seen splashing in the puddle now joined me in the kitchen. We were making cookies. Peanut butter. My mouth started to water.

  Keira moved on and Gabe moved next to me.

  “You looked a million miles away just now. What were you thinking?” he asked.

  “I just had the best fantasy.”

  He edged closer, an expectant smile on his face. Here was where I was supposed to share my deepest yearning: barefoot, pregnant (by him, of course), and happily baking Christmas cookies.

  “Yeah?” he prompted.

  “I was thinking about peanut butter cookies. I can’t remember the last time I had a peanut butter cookie.”

  He frowned and followed Keira down the hall to the bedrooms.

  “What? You don’t like cookies?”

  No answer.

  I smirked and followed after them.

  “This place isn’t doing it for me,” Keira was saying. “Let’s go to the next one.”

  “Okay. How about the Victorian? I bet you’ll like this one, Andie,” he added.

  I shrugged. “Too bad I’m not in the market.”

  “You never know,” Keira said from in back of me. Short-term memory loss. She’d forgotten which one of us was getting married.

  I took her left hand and held it in front of her face. “You’re the one who’s looking. Remember?”

  “I’m multitasking. I’m looking for both of us.”

  “Real estate’s always a good investment,” Gabe added. “You could buy something and rent it. Let the renters make your house payments.”

  Why did it feel like Gabe Knightly was always trying to sell me on something? In high school it was sex. Now it was real estate.

  “I’ll have to keep that in mind,” I said diplomatically.

  The Victorian was adorable, baby blue with white trim. The house had it all: patterned shingles, cornice trim, shuttered windows, and a charming front porch.

  “It’s gorgeous,” I breathed.

  “Too old-fashioned for me,” Keira said.

  The house was calling to me. “Let’s look inside.”

  Inside was even better than outside: hardwood floors, a staircase with a banister and a newel post, a grandfather clock standing sentinel at the foot of the stairs. The living room wasn’t as big as the one in the first house, but it was the perfect size to hold an intimate collection of friends at a holiday party. I took in the floral sofa and matching wingback chairs and the Oriental rug and imagined a group of women sitting around visiting in front of the fireplace, drinking vanilla tea. This fireplace wasn’t as big as the one in the first house, but large enough to accommodate Santa … if he went on a diet. As if the house itself wasn’t enough to lust over, someone had used a scented plug-in to fill the place with the scent of cinnamon.

  “I’m going upstairs,” Keira announced.

  I tore myself away from the living room and followed her up the hardwood stairs. The owners had put a carpet runner on them and we went up as soundlessly as burglars, the only noise in the place the slow ticking of the grandfather clock.

  I tried not to drool as we drifted in and out of bedrooms. The two kids’ bedrooms were obviously occupied by girls, with canopy beds and walls painted pastel pink and lavender. The rooms were relatively neat, with only a couple of books or ballet shoes on the floor, the beds occupied by dolls and stuffed animals. The master bedroom offered a walk-in closet, lots of light from the windows, and thick beige carpet. I looked at the sleigh bed piled high with pillows and imagined myself snuggled under the Chinese red comforter and propped up against those pillows, reading. And next to me . . .

  Don’t go there, I scolded myself, erasing the Gabe Knightly look-alike from the vision.

  “Nice, isn’t it?” he said at my elbow.

  Glue Guy. It seemed I couldn’t shake him. “You think April would like it?” I asked sweetly.

  The mention of my former best friend and his ex-girlfriend swiped the smile from his face. “We haven’t been together in over a year.”

  I looked at him in disgust. “You really have commitment issues, don’t you?”

  “Actually, I don’t. And that’s been the problem,” he added.

  Oh, yeah. Try to suck me into asking all about your love life.

  “Whoa, come look at this master bath,” Keira called.

  I looked. And wanted. If we got bathrooms in heaven, this was what they’d look like, all blinding-white tile and soft beige carpet.

  “The Incredible Hulk would get lost in that tub,” Gabe said.

  Keira opened the glass shower door and looked in. “Two of them could fit in here.”

  “What do you think so far, Keira?” Gabe asked, looking at me.

  “It’s not me,” she said. “This looks more like Andie.

  Yeah, I could see myself in this place, dressing it all up, entertaining, eventually raising kids. “It’s nice,” I admitted.

  “Something like this on that half-acre with a pond?” Gabe guessed.

  “Something like that,” I admitted. “In the Hamptons,” I added, and he frowned.

  We checked out a couple more houses, then Gabe took us to The Salad Bowl, one of Carol’s newer restaurants, for lunch. As we parked in front of the squat brick building I tried not to compare it to all the great restaurants I’d been trying in New York: Jia Xiang Lo’s for a Chinese breakfast of deep-fried Crullers and sweet soybean milk, The Candle Cafe for Veggie Hero Reubens, or the Original New York Milkshake Company where I always got good-natured harassment along with my grilled cheese sandwich and cherry vanilla shake. I didn’t even have to set foot in this restaurant to know it couldn’t measure up.

  “Good choice,” Keira approved. “I love this place.”

  “I figured you would,” Gabe said, and
opened the door for us.

  He knew my sister’s tastes so well. It irked me. And the fact that it irked me, well, that irked me. What did I care, anyway?

  We entered and were overwhelmed by the smell of garlic and freshly baked bread. The place was painted a pale green, and it held so many plants I felt like I was in a salad bowl. Maybe that was what the owners were going for. Maybe they wanted us to be one with our food.

  It was doing a brisk business, with almost every table full. We got the last booth and settled in, surrounded by planters full of exotic greens. The one in back of me brushed hungrily at my skin, making me feel like a fly on a Venus flytrap. This plant obviously preferred humans. I leaned forward and drummed my fingers on the table. What was Beryl the Brit saying to Mr. Margolin right now? One thing I knew for sure. My name wouldn’t come up.

  “Nervous?” Gabe asked, nodding at my tapping fingers.

  I stopped drumming. “No.”

  “You never used to do that,” he said.

  “I never used to be in business.” And living in New York City, where life moved faster than the speed of light and no one cared that the meek would inherit the earth. There the meek couldn’t even inherit attention from a store clerk. You had to be aggressive in New York. Who wouldn’t drum her fingers?

  “If it’s making you that uptight maybe you’re in the wrong business,” Gabe suggested. “Or the wrong city.”

  What was he thinking? New York was the most exciting city in the world. Of course I was in the right city. It was a perfect fit for me. It just took some getting used to after growing up in a small town, that was all.

  “She’s not uptight,” Keira said before I could formulate the perfect reply. “She’s probably bored. She’s used to eating at Sardi’s.” The way she said it made eating at Sardi’s sound like a crime.

  Gabe cocked his head. “Is that it? Is it boring here?”

  “With my family? You’ve got to be kidding.” But there were different kinds of excitement, and I preferred New York’s with its fabulous nightlife and unlimited opportunity.

  “We’re not so bad,” Keira said.

  “We’re certainly not boring,” I said diplomatically.

  “Your family’s great,” Gabe said.

  “Is that why you dated half of us?” I asked.

  Keira disappeared behind her menu.

  Gabe looked irritated, but he recovered quickly. “Rejected by two Hartwell women. Pretty sad.”

  “To get rejected by somebody you have to first want them,” Keira said from behind her menu.

  There was a cryptic remark. What did it mean?

  Nobody explained. Instead, Keira announced, “I’m going to have the Hail Caesar Salad. What about you guys?”

  “I guess I’ll have the Toss Your Tacos,” Gabe said. “It’s the only meat I’m going to get here.”

  “You could have the Curried Clucker,” Keira suggested. “That’s got chicken.”

  Gabe made a face. “Yeah, but it’s also got curry and green olives. And apples.”

  I read down the menu: Leaf Me Alone, We Cantaloupe Fruit Lovers Salad, and the Berry Pleasing Northwest Mix, which was basically a tossed salad with blueberries and walnuts and a berry vinaigrette dressing. The soup names were just as bad. In the Spuds Potato Soup? Was that supposed to make me want to order? Whoever had come up with these names should have been drowned in Thousand Island Dressing. I mean, I like cute, but this wasn’t Disneyland. It was an upscale restaurant. Supposedly. I wondered who did their advertising.

  And speaking of advertising. No, don’t go there.

  Our waitress arrived, resplendent in black pants and a green polo shirt. She was wearing a white apron printed with vegetables and a cap on her head that I guessed was supposed to look like a tomato. Sadly, it looked more like the world’s largest Superball.

  “We need to leave her a really big tip,” I said after she took our orders and hustled off.

  Gabe raised both eyebrows. “She hasn’t even served us yet.”

  “She deserves a reward just for being willing to wear that getup in public,” I said.

  Gabe gave the woman an assessing look. “It’s not so bad.”

  “Andie doesn’t like Mom’s jacket, either,” Keira explained.

  “Well, who would?” I protested.

  Gabe came to Mom’s defense. “It’s just in fun.”

  I pointed a finger at him. “You should be offended. You’re a man.”

  One side of his mouth lifted in a half-grin. “You noticed.”

  I shook my head in disgust.

  “She doesn’t mean anything by it,” Gabe said. “Anyway, it’s probably good therapy or something.”

  “Or something,” I muttered.

  Gabe changed the subject. “So Keira, which house did you like the best?”

  “The first one. It’s got to be the first one.”

  “It’s a great house,” he agreed. “And the value can only go up.”

  Like Spencer’s blood pressure when he found out how much money his future wife was committing them to spending.

  “I just have to convince Spencer it’s worth it. We may have to be DINKs for a while.”

  Double Income, No Kids. I doubted Keira’s salary at The Coffee Break was large enough to make her and Spencer a double-income couple. How would you describe them? As an INK? An INK and a half?

  And what was I? One Income, No Kids. Hmmm. That made me an OINK.

  “Are you okay?” Keira asked suddenly.

  “Yeah. I’m fine. Why?”

  “You looked like you were in pain just now.”

  “No pain here.” I was perfectly happy being an OINK.

  My phone rang just as the waitress showed up with our salads: one Toss Your Tacos, One Hail Caesar, and one Curried Clucker.

  “I hate it when people have to talk on their cell phones every minute of the day,” Keira grumbled.

  I ignored her and answered it.

  It was Iris. “Beryl’s meeting with the Nutri Bread people next Wednesday. She said to let you know.”

  “Next Wednesday?” I had to have misheard.

  “What’s next Wednesday?” Keira demanded.

  I turned away from her, getting slapped by the Venus human trap plant in the process. “But Beryl knows I’m not going to be back until after New Year’s.” Which was, of course, why she’d done this. “What’s the meeting about?” Dumb question, of course. It was about Beryl holding center stage, hogging the glory and presenting our media strategy for the next five years sans me.

  “So, should I tell her you won’t be able to make it back in time?” Iris asked.

  I’d have done Christmas with the family by then. It was all I’d really committed to, anyway. I made a quick, decisive decision. The Carol fireworks would have to take place without me. I suffered a moment of guilt, knowing my family (well, mostly Mom and Grandma and Aunt Chloe) would be disappointed. But a career girl had to do what a career girl had to do. They’d simply have to accept that fact.

  “I’ll be there,” I said.

  “Okay, I’ll tell her,” Iris said and hung up.

  Good. This was working out perfectly. I wouldn’t miss the action at work and I’d make it back to New York in time to see the ball drop. And I’d have done my duty and had Christmas with my family.

  Keira barged into my thoughts. “You’ll be where?”

  “I’ve got a big meeting with the Nutri Bread people next week.”

  “Next week! You’re supposed to stay through New Year’s.”

  “Well, I’ll be here through Christmas.”

  “But Spencer and I are having a party for you before the fireworks.”

  That was my sister. She lived for parties.

  “Everyone’s going to be there, and they’re all looking forward to seeing you.”

  She made it sound like I was running out on her wedding. We needed to put this in perspective. “Who’s everyone?” I asked.

  “Me, for one,” Gabe
said.

  “I’m already seeing you. Right now.”

  “And doesn’t it make you want to see me more?”

  I gave him a get-a-grip look and he shrugged and dug into his salad.

  Keira was scowling at me. “I’d think being with your family for the first time in two years would rate higher than some dumb meeting about bread.”

  I didn’t need a second mom for Christmas. “Not all of us are marrying a sugar daddy.” I was sorry the minute I said it.

  “I love Spencer,” Keira said, stung.

  I sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be. And I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to plan this party. We’re having it at Spencer’s. And it’s catered.”

  Oh, boy.

  “Mom’s not going to like this.”

  I was barely home and we were already falling into old patterns. Keira should just as well have said, “I’m telling.” “Look. Let’s not spoil Christmas. Okay?” I pleaded. “And you can still have your New Year’s Eve party.”

  “It won’t be the same without you.”

  I suddenly remembered how Keira had always wanted me at her parties when we were kids and how she tried to horn in when my friends and I sprawled around my bedroom and talked about boys. She was my little sister, and she’d looked up to me.

  And I loved her. So to prove it, I was escaping back to NYC as quickly as possible. I felt like a rat.

  Until I remembered about my sister dating Gabe. Then I felt justified in ducking out on her party. Anyway, she hadn’t said anything about it until now, so it wasn’t like I was deliberately ditching her.

  I pointed that out.

  “I didn’t see any need to tell you since you were supposed to be here.”

  “Well, I was planning on it.”

  “And now you’re not.” She looked at me in disgust. “What if a big meeting comes up on my wedding day? Will you bug out on being my maid of honor?”

  “I wouldn’t have a meeting on a weekend.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have a meeting during the holidays, either.”

  “Hey, you two. The blood’s starting to splash everywhere and you’re ruining my appetite,” said Gabe.

  Keira shut up and glared at her salad.

  I stabbed a piece of Curried Clucker, then put it in my mouth and chomped down hard. Are we having fun yet?