You Had Me At Christmas: A Holiday Anthology

by Karina Bliss

  She almost missed Marc, whose head was blocked by the salad bar in the middle of the restaurant.

  “Hey,” she said as she slid into the booth. Even though this wasn’t a date, her heart fluttered.

  Of course, if it wasn’t a date, what the hell was it?

  “Hey,” he said back. “You look nice, but I miss the Popsicle look.”

  “Thanks.” She was wearing the same clothes she’d had on last night, when she’d been driving around town, but the jeans fit well and she liked the funny cartoon potato on her purple T-shirt. It was silly, but she needed a little silly in her life.

  “Don’t get me wrong, the uniform was cute, too.”

  “Hey,” she said, pursing her lips against her smile at his compliment. “I thought this was a no-strings-attached dinner.” Marc’s awkwardness and the way he laughed at himself about it had been part of what had put her at ease originally. But Gary never took no for an answer, and she needed to make sure Marc did, even if it was just dinner.

  “What?” His eyes crossed in confusion for a brief second before realization dawned. “Oh, the compliments. Men in this town must operate under different rules from what I was taught if compliments mean more than what they are at face value. You’re pretty. I like your company. I invited you to dinner for the latter, but the former doesn’t hurt. But all I want is someone to talk to. I’ve been driving alone for a while.”

  “Okay.” She shook her head, more at herself than at him. “It’s been a rough night and a long day. I’m not normally so suspicious.”

  “None of us are at our best when we’re tired, and you seemed exhausted even this morning. If it makes you more comfortable and more willing to keep me company, be as suspicious as you like. I’ll be over here, keeping my hands to myself.” He was smiling, and the light in his eyes was both sympathetic and friendly.

  Maybe she really could trust him. Maybe he was exactly who he claimed to be and would be and do what he said he would.

  There weren’t many people in her life she could say that about.

  The waitress came to take their order then. Selina ordered pork egg foo young—her favorite—and Marc ordered chow mein and pork and seeds.

  “I’m curious about those pork and seeds,” he said after the waitress left.

  “I’m guessing it’s not authentic if you’ve never had any.”

  He waved her off. “Or maybe it’s incredibly authentic, which is why you can only get it at this restaurant.”

  She laughed, pleased with the way he turned her inexperience back to compliment her. “Not just here. It’s an Idaho Chinese-food specialty. You can get pork and seeds at Costco.”

  “Nothing more authentic than that.” His gentle teasing put a smile in his tone, even though he’d said the words with a straight face.

  “You can comment on their authenticity after you eat them.”

  She was smiling so much her cheeks hurt. Marc was better than a distraction. Even though she still didn’t know where she was sleeping tonight, she was actually enjoying herself, which she wouldn’t have thought possible an hour ago.

  “Fair,” he said, inclining his head.

  The waitress came back almost immediately with the appetizer. Marc stared for a moment before laughing. He had a nice, cheerful laugh. Even with his uncertainty about the pork and seeds, there was no indication that he was laughing at her or at Idaho’s regional variations on Chinese food. Instead, like her, he was facing change in his life and the joy of a simple pleasure was a welcome relief.

  It had been a long time since Selina could say she’d felt joy in life, and Marc’s was contagious.

  “It’s literally pork and seeds,” he said, a smile beaming across his face.

  “That’s what I said,” she pointed out on a laugh, picking up a thin slice of pork, its exterior pink—from being smoked, she always assumed, but food coloring was just as likely. “Watch me. You dip it in the mustard, then in the seeds, and it’s delicious. Authenticity be damned.”

  Marc followed her lead and tried a bite. “This is good. And here I was thinking dinner with you couldn’t get any better.”

  She raised a brow at him. “Do you have a stock set of lines you use on women?”

  “Only the pretty ones,” he said with a wink that magically made him seem both goofier and cuter at the same time.

  Maybe it was because she was tired. Or maybe it was the pleasure streaming through her veins that she hadn’t felt in what seemed like years. Or maybe it was the way he pursed his lips when he’d spoken, as though he hadn’t thought he was going to get away with it. Whatever it was, she couldn’t help laughing.

  He grinned. “They don’t usually work so well. Actually, they usually fail and I end up stumbling over my tongue like an ass. But if you keep smiling, I’ll keep spouting them.”

  His face went suddenly serious. “I mean them, though. In case you had any doubts . . . I mean every word I say to you. The past couple months have been a series of ups and downs for me. They’ve been mostly ups, really, but I’m feeling a bit lost with myself right now. I’m still floundering around in my life and in my head, but in that diner, I found you, and I can tell that you are worth knowing.”

  Her heart fluttered. Actually fluttered in her chest and made her cough. Though the cough might have been from embarrassment. The rush running through her body was a mix of pleasure and embarrassment. Both feelings could be equally responsible for anything from the odd feeling in her heart, to the cough, to the flush creeping up her neck.

  “How was the museum?” she asked, not sure she wanted to acknowledge what he’d said.

  “Closed, like you said. And I didn’t see anyone on a horse or any model airplanes in the air. And the Wolf People weren’t doing tours, so I didn’t see any wolves, either. Nice gift shop, though. They seemed like a good cause so I bought a couple stuffed animals to give as baby gifts.”

  “That’s too bad.” She didn’t know why he would be wandering this part of Idaho, especially when winter was setting in. A good storm would trap him here, in a place where he seemed to have no purpose other than to drive around. “Even if I don’t believe you’re here to see the sights, I don’t want them to be disappointing.”

  Marc reached out like he was contemplating another piece of pork, then changed his mind. After wiping his fingers on his napkin, he eyed her. “Why do you think I’m here?”

  “Drug dealer on the run?” she said, only half joking. “That’s the only reason I’ve been able to come up with that explains someone being up here with no discernable goals and three phones.”

  He barked with laughter. “Oh man. I wish I’d recorded that.”

  “Why?” she asked, surprised at how hard he was laughing. Her joke hadn’t been that funny.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at your guess.” He lifted the back of his hand up to his mouth to slow his chuckles. “Okay, maybe I am laughing at your guess, but that’s because my friends will never believe it. I’m not the nerdiest person I know, but only because the competition is steep.”

  “Then what do you do?” she asked, even more curious now. “Gun runner? Drug dealer? Transporting illegal hamsters? Those are the only reasons I can think for three phones.”

  “Illegal hamsters,” he said, chuckling again and shaking his head. “What kind of TV do you watch?”

  “Only the good stuff.” She was smiling now, too.

  He paused, and she wondered if he wasn’t going to tell her what he did, if they would part as unknown to each other as they had been when he’d walked in the door. “Would you believe I developed a texting program for cell phones that sends encrypted texts via SMS and that I just sold it to the largest tech company in the world?”

  “That doesn’t sound too far from the black market rodent trade,” she said as she leaned back in her booth, folded her arms, and evaluated him. He met her comment with his own forthright gaze. It wasn’t just the lack of smile on his face that made her realize he was serious,
but his eyes were deep and true. If she had sold some tech thing—she had only the shallowest notion of what encryption even meant—to the company she suspected he was referring to, she would be bouncing up and down with joy, possibly even throwing money up in the air for anyone around to catch.

  But for all his smiles and flirtations, Marc was made of different stuff. Or maybe such an enormous life change was more profound than Selina could imagine.

  “I can pull up the articles on my phone, if you don’t believe me,” he said, reaching into his back pocket for one of those smartphones he carried. She thought she heard a faint tremble in his voice.

  Money was serious business. Having been poor—or nearly so—her entire life, Selina knew that as a truth. But the hitch in Marc’s voice wasn’t just about the grave implications of money. It seemed important to him that she believed him. Not only because he wanted to be believed and thought of as honest, but the way his eyes focused on her made her think he needed her to believe him. The sudden realization made her blink.

  “I’d, um, I’d like to see, but not because I don’t believe you. I’d like to celebrate your success with you. I’d be honored to celebrate your success with you.”

  Misgivings flashed across his face, but then he pulled out his phones. He must have saved the links to the articles because it only took him three taps on the first phone to bring something up. He handed the phone to her. As she looked down at a Wall Street Journal article on the screen, she saw him touching his other phones out of the corner of her eye and setting them faceup on the table.

  Selina had believed Marc—she really had—but seeing the article with dollar amounts, pictures, and details had the truth settling itself on her shoulders like a thick wool blanket. It should be comforting, and it definitely brought a warmth to her chest, but too much could feel like a burden.

  She set the first phone on the table, and he nudged another one toward her. “I built the platform with a friend,” he said. “The money isn’t all mine.”

  The next article was from something called Information Week. It had the same general content but with a slightly more techie and less business-related spin, as well as a different picture. The last article was from the New York Times. That article was the most detailed, including the sale in a bigger story about mobile security, hacking, and open-source software.

  She pushed the two other phones away from her slowly, almost afraid to touch them. “This is a big deal.”

  One side of his mouth kicked up in a proud smile. “Yeah.”

  “And not just because of the money.”

  He shook his head, his smile growing deeper. “The money is nice, but what my buddy and I did was revolutionary. With our competition, you have to have access to a data network to send encrypted texts. Using the actual cell network changes the game completely.” Excitement carried his voice a little louder in the last sentence.

  “Why are you running away, then?”

  “Running away?” Even though he shook his head, she sensed she’d hit on the truth. “This is my celebratory trip. I’m driving around, seeing the sights, and then I’m going to Snowdance outside of Salt Lake City for a week of skiing. I’ve booked the best condo they had available, private lessons, and a heli-skiing trip. It will be my first vacation in two years. And when I’m done at Snowdance, I’ve got a couple other places booked.”

  She shook her head. “People come to northern Idaho to disappear.”

  Recognition flickered in his eyes, shuttering the pride on his face. “Maybe that’s what I wanted when I planned the trip. No, not disappear. But be out of contact with the world for a while. Not have to see a computer screen or check my phone every five seconds.”

  “You’re carrying three phones,” she pointed out with a nod at the electronics on the table. “If you want to sever ties, you need to leave them all behind.”

  “No,” he said with a vigorous shake of his head. “I never wanted to sever ties. Put them on hold, maybe, but not sever.”

  “You’ve got to leave at least one phone behind if you want to do that,” she said with a raise of her brow.

  His chuckle was hollow, more than humor. “Setting my life aside for a couple weeks has been . . .” He paused, and his eyes seemed to search the room for the right word. “It has been strange.”

  “What do you keep checking in on?”

  Reservations slipped onto his easy, friendly face. “I’ve told you a lot about me. What about you? I want to know about you, too.”

  “What about me? I’m a waitress at a diner in a nothing town, taking one course a semester at the local community college until I can get out. For obvious reasons, your life is more exciting.”

  “I don’t know about that. What are you studying?”

  “This semester? I’m taking an art history class.”

  He gestured his head to her. “I mean, in general. What’s your goal?”

  The image from her daydream flashed in front of her eyes. She was wearing her fancy black books, a tight black skirt, and black silk top, standing among the colorful artwork of some fabulous new artist that she’d discovered. Then she saw Marc coming in, having passed the gallery and seen her—not the art—in the windows.

  She tried to shake the thoughts away. She was too old to have such a silly fantasy, especially since she needed a job that was reliable and paid well. “I’d like to get my nursing degree, but the community college near me doesn’t offer the right classes.” She paused, trying to figure out how to explain it without sounding like an aimless fool. “Right now, I’m taking classes so I can get some core stuff out of the way and electives that will hopefully transfer. One day, I’ll have saved up enough money to be able to move to Spokane and take the rest of the classes I need.”

  “That sounds interesting. And makes sense.” His smile was encouraging, and she felt like she was lying to him.

  “Not really. I’m kind of treading water. And to be honest, I feel stuck. Spending money on those classes now means I’m not saving up to move and study somewhere I know the credits will help to get me my degree. But I’m afraid that if I don’t take the classes, I’ll lose momentum.”

  Sometimes, momentum was the only thing that kept her going forward.

  “Are momentum struggles why you were crying?” he asked gently. “I’ve been there before.”

  His confidence was as contagious as his smiles, though for different reasons. Not once had Marc looked at her with pity. To Marc, she was the pretty—though sad—waitress he’d picked up in a diner. And man, it was wonderful to be something so simple.

  Everyone in town knew that her stepfather was a waste of space and her mother enabled him. Sometimes when Selina walked through the grocery store, the smiles of the people she saw were less friendly and more indulgent. Anger and apprehension would seethe inside her, boiling and growing until she got home where reality would be lying—drunk—on the couch.

  It wasn’t enough for Gary to be a drunk. Or to be a letch. Or to be unable to hold a job. But he had to be all three, all at once. Selina had long since stopped trying to figure out why her mom didn’t leave the guy. The why didn’t matter as much as the fact that she wouldn’t, and anyway, what did Selina know about long-term relationships and commitment? The only thing she was committed to was getting out of this town and she held tight to that goal, despite the snags life had thrown in her way. Some day.

  “Ya know, it’s a small town, and getting out isn’t easy. Poverty, meth, bad schools—take your pick. There’s a lot to cry about.”

  Disappointment darkened his brown eyes. “Come on, now. I mean, it’s your life and you can keep it to yourself if you want. But I did share with you.”

  “Is telling you why I was crying my price for dinner?” Thinking about Gary had put her on edge, and it was reflected in the sharpness of her tone. Worry that her instincts had slipped and that Marc was just a nicer, classier version of Gary snaked through her. Maybe with Marc, when he said something didn’t have a p
rice, what he meant was that he hadn’t come up with the price yet.

  “God, if you have cause to think that about men, I already know why you were crying.” The disappointment that had been in his eyes colored to anger, though she knew it wasn’t directed at her. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. Tell me what the most interesting thing is that you learned in your art class so far. I want to know that, too.”

  For the second time that night, she evaluated how genuine he was. And for the second time that night, he looked her straight in her eyes and let her appraise him. She would have expected a man who built security programs to keep information safe, to be closed off and secretive. And maybe most guys like him were. Maybe Marc normally was, even, but nothing about this interaction was normal.

  “My stepfather made a pass at me last night,” she admitted, trying not to let her voice waver. He opened his mouth, and she spoke before he could get any words out. “No, that diminishes me and makes what he did seem smaller. Gary often makes passes at me. He likes my looks and my figure. Sometimes he tests my doorknob to see if it’s locked. What made last night different was that he was the perfect combination of drunk enough to try to knock down my door and not so drunk that he passed out before he could do it. I spent all night driving around town, just so I didn’t have to be at home. And I was crying because I don’t know where to sleep tonight.”

  There was the pitying face she’d been hoping to avoid. Though in Marc’s eyes, it was okay. Not great, but bearable. “No friends you can stay with?”

  Their conversation paused as the waitress came up to the table and set down their plates. Wood snapped as they both broke their chopsticks apart and the smells of chilies, chicken, and oyster sauce wafted up from the table.