How to Bake the Perfect Christmas Cake (Home for the Holidays - Book 2)

by Gina Henning

  “Oh, hey, Lauren, I meant to bring these to you earlier.” Javier is leaning over my cubicle with two brown packages.

  I lean back and blink. “Thank you.” I take the packages and place them on my desk. It has to be from Jack. I was worried he was mad about the airport situation. It’s been four days of gifts and then zip, zilch, nada. We texted a few times yesterday but nothing more. I twiddle my fingers over the package. Should I open them here or wait until I get to Texas? I rub my finger over my lip and cast my eyes on the clock on my screen. It’s almost three. I reach for the red scissors from my jar and cut open the brown paper packaging with the earlier date, it is not tied up with string however.

  I slide the box out of the package and lift off the lid. Inside is a gold ornament. I remove it from its cotton fluffy resting place. I’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s five golden rings interloped to form one ring. I raise my eyebrows and bask in the ray of this glorious gift. I can almost hear angels singing in the background. I take in a deep breath and rub my lips over each other. The significance of this ornament seems to be more than just the 5th day of Christmas. The rings form together into one ring. My knucles are white. I loosen my grip and place the ornament on my desk. I know I’m falling but am I ready, is this even the right timing? I bite my lip. Should I even open the next package?

  I snatch the scissors and began cutting. Six geese-a-laying is next, nothing significant can come from this. I rip off the top of the box. Inside is an ornament with six geese resting in nests. I shrug my shoulders. Exactly as I had figured. I shake my head with arrogance. I should go on Deal or No Deal, obviously I’m good at guessing what’s in the box. I make a Silvio face from The Sopranos.

  I rub my fingers over the silver geese and turn it over. I jump back. The text on the back reads “Six geese-a-laying - a lifetime of pleasure.”

  I gulp. Okay. No misinterpretation there. I shake my head and take a deep breath. I eye the clock. It’s fifteen after three, I’ve got to get a move on. I wrap the ornaments back up and place them in my laptop bag.

  I log out of all of my applications and set my email to vacation status and then turn off my computer. I slide my laptop into my bag and sling my purse on my shoulder. I shake my head again. I know Jack has been making innuendos for quite a while, but we haven’t reached a bedroom door together. We’ve kept things at second base. Six geese a-laying, a lifetime of pleasure. Yes, my insides are on fire. I teeter my way to the elevator and press the down arrow. I’ll have to hustle to make it to the airport on time.

  I hike my way to my car as fast as I can and click the remote on my keys to unlock the doors. I place my book bag in the backseat and close the door. I hop into my spot and stick the key into the ignition and rev the engine. I jerk back, a little too much gas. Crap, I’m in a hurry. I put the car in reverse and maneuver my way out of the parking garage. I swish my hand around in my purse and grab my phone. I hit the home button, no text messages. I glance up at the ceiling. I haven’t heard from Jack at all today. I slump my shoulders as I merge onto the highway. Shiat. He is probably upset or bothered because I didn’t thank him for yesterday’s gift. Except I didn’t get it until today. Yet, he doesn’t know this. I bite my top lip.

  I tap on the home button and slide the rectangle to unlock and key in my code. I tap on his name. The dialing sound comes over my car’s speakers. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Seriously? Ring. “This is Jack Walker, please leave me a message at the beep.” I click the red circle with the white downward facing phone. Definitely not leaving a message. I lift my turn signal lever and swerve my car to the right. I’m almost there. I’m weaving in and around other vehicles who don’t seem to realize it’s the Friday before Christmas and most people are in a rush to either get home or to the airport. I merge onto the feeder road, nothing is in my blind spot. I veer my car all the way to the right-hand lane and take the curve as I enter onto the airport road. I had planned on parking in long term. But I’ve got less than forty minutes until boarding. I can’t risk it. I plow on through to short-term parking. This is going to cost me a fortune, but what else is new about this trip? Other than it being extremely expensive. I shudder and drive my car in between the rows of parked vehicles. I find a premier spot and I deserve one for the price I’m paying. I roll my car in between the yellow lines and hop out. I grab my laptop bag from the backseat and my suitcase from the trunk. Heels and all, I do a mini-run through the parking lot. I pause at the street and wait on a few cars before I trek on past the outside bag check and rush as fast as I can in heels to the check-in for my airline. I already printed out my boarding pass and checked in from the office. All I need to do here is check my bags. I hand over my luggage, ticket, and ID to the attendant.

  “Not sure if you’re going to make it,” the blonde attendant says to me.

  I plaster on my most gracious smile, which is hiding my ‘hurry it up’ face. She must buy the faux smile because my bags are checked and my ticket is stamped before I can question anything. I shout a Merry Christmas over my shoulder as I book it for the security line. Every inch of my body is hoping for no setbacks. Security always has delays, but I have no extra time for this. I need Security to work like a well-tuned orchestra and play on, no hold-ups or pause for artistic thoughts or theories.

  The line is packed with passengers and caboodles. I rush up to the end of the line and tap my foot. Move line, move. The problem with flying over a busy holiday weekend is not just the extra travelers but the inexperienced ones. These are not the business class, ready with their liquids in their clear Ziploc bags, slip-on shoes ready to dump in the gray plastic trays. No, these are the slack-jawed folks who are mesmerized by the conveyer belt and how quickly it works.

  I dig through my purse and find my phone, crap I’ve got less than twenty minutes till boarding. How many people are in front of me? Or, rather, how many delays. Marlin would totally call all of the people in front of me a bunch of delay fish. I take in a deep breath…I’m going to try and be more like Dory and just keep swimming or not moving here in this line, I hum in my head.

  The line starts to pick up. Finally, it appears another security gate has opened, perfect. This would make sense, of course, to have all possible lines open. I wet my lips and peer around the person in front of me. I’ve got about twenty people in between me and my gate. I tap my foot and blow out through my teeth. Be calm, Lauren, you don’t want TSA to pick you from the line for looking jittery. I can’t count how many times I have been removed from the line for an extra pat down and rummage of my belongings as if I look like a terrorist. I’m not sure if the TSA is bored when they choose me or if maybe I’m on some sort of no-fly list or ‘watch out for this gal’ list because of my name or something. I take in a deep breath and slowly peek around the guy in front of me. I’ve now got five more people in my line. I tap the home button on my phone. I’ve got to run across eight gates in less than fifteen minutes and get through this line. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. In my mind I am virtually moving the people in front of me.

  “Miss, you all right?” The TSA person is staring at me.

  “Oh, yes, thank you.” I must have had my eyes closed for too long. I reach down, slip off my heels and toss them into the gray plastic basket along with my book bag. I grab my laptop out of the bag and open it for the agents to see. I place my toiletries in the gray container as well and stride towards the body scanner.

  A TSA person makes a beeline towards me. “Come with me.”

  I refrain from shaking my head and bite the inside of my cheek to remain calm. Of course I’m being pulled aside. I’m a twenty-something woman wearing professional attire, a dress no less, and I’m being asked for an extra search.

  “Walk into this machine and stand there.” The agent says.

  I do as I’m told and trek into the glass bubble machine and the door closes behind me. Poof. Poof. Poof. Goes off all around me. Air is shooting at me from each side. I jump and the doors on the other si
de of the machine open.

  I shake my head and trot out of the machine. The agent nods at me as if I’ve passed some test, for what I don’t know. And I don’t care, I’m past Security. I toss on my shoes, throw my laptop back into my book bag along with the toiletries and make a mad dash for my gate. I’m weaving around bustles of people, families, couples, old ladies, golf carts full of passengers and I’m passing all of them. My gate is only two away. I don’t even check the time, there is literally no time for it. I keep running and running until I’m in front of gate thirty-seven.

  “Last call for passengers Flight 1777 en route to Austin, last call.”

  I run up to the flight attendant and show her my ticket. “You just made it, have a safe trip. Thank you for flying—’

  I nod and sprint through the tunnel to get to my plane, I can’t risk them closing the doors on the airplane. I make it to the opening of the airplane and I let out a sigh. I made it. I can almost breathe easy. I wade through the seats of oversized passengers, the first class; some who won’t make eye contact and others who have their eyebrows raised out of curiosity for a glimpse of “how the other people live”. It’s almost as if they think they are in the first car on the Snowpiercer, I roll my eyes. I could afford first class if I wanted to. Well, actually not with this ticket, it’s already costing me a third of my Christmas bonus and I’m in the back of the plane by the restroom. I do not like sitting in the back of the plane.

  I have to wait for everyone to exit first and then there is the smell. I shudder. There’s my seat, 43B, at least it’s a window seat. The seat next to it is empty, maybe I’ll get lucky with no seatmate. I slide into my spot and store my book bag under my chair. My seat is buckled and I’m exhausted after all of the running. I really need to work out more. I close my eyes, a mini in-flight nap might do me some good.

  I wake up and am semi-rested. Once our flight lands, we have an hour trip back to my parents’ house, but we won’t be going there first. The first stop will be through the Trail of Holiday Lights. I glance at my phone, we’ve got about another twenty minutes or so until we make touchdown. The flight is the same amount of time as always, but for me it seems to take forever as I rock back and forth in my seat and try and distract myself with a book, a magazine, and making up stories about the other passengers in my head. I even considered writing down the story about the lady in the aisle next to me. She reminds me of a female version of Inspector Gadget. Without Penny as her sidekick, really running the show. I swear she must be an ex-CIA agent. I say ex because she has got to be around seventy, which is also why it is kind of weird to see so many gadgets from someone of that age. My own grandmother and mother are anti-gadget. One time I saw my mom using the Kindle I got her for Christmas as a bookmark in a paperback book.

  As the bell rings overhead, I know the time has come to unlatch my seatbelt and get ready to bolt. People on airplanes often forget their manners. It’s like they think the plane is a manner-free zone. They often forgo the rule of letting the person out in front of you and instead, ignore them while they barrel ahead to the exit. Then there are the types, who latch themselves in the drift of the passenger standing before them. They ride their carry-ons on the backs of the person in front of them. These are some of my biggest pet peeves about traveling. I wish I had a buzzer and I could hand out red cards or fines of some sort for these rule-breakers.

  I only have my book bag as I had carefully stored my purse inside it to avoid extra caboodles to my carrying. Of course I checked a bag, but my dad or Luke will carry it for me. It’s nice having guys around. I sigh, I need to talk to Jack. I hope he isn’t mad about the airport situation. Crap, I told him it was a family tradition, which reminds me of the fact that he doesn’t have any family here. Or anywhere really, I guess he has been talking about his Aunt Minnie a lot. Maybe I should have invited him along to see the lights?

  On second thought, I’m glad I didn’t as the trail takes a good thirty minutes to get through and then the trip back to my parents’ is another hour or so with no getting out of the vehicle. I can imagine all of the questions and prodding Megan would give him, let alone anyone else. No, it’s best he didn’t make this trip.

  Finally it’s my turn to exit. I throw my bag on my shoulder and trek down the aisle of the plane. It’s almost completely empty except for some elderly passengers that probably require assistance from the flight attendants to exit. I smile at them. “Happy Holidays.”

  “Yes, Merry Christmas, dear.” An older woman cocks her head at me. I don’t understand why people get bothered by Happy Holidays, there are plenty of holidays to wish for happy ones this month besides Christmas. Next time I’m going to say, “Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas” and then lean back and pat my stomach and laugh. Ha!

  Almost a week has passed since I’ve seen Jack. Well, to be technical, it was five days ago. Five long days of dealing with nosey coworkers. The type who chew their candy too loud and have a persistent cough from September to August each year. Hack hack hack, they aren’t even smokers. More like the people in the theater who hear a cough and then are compelled into also coughing and the cough, the magic cough, floats around the theater pulling everyone in. Like a white squall, it comes out of nowhere but once the cough is airborne, there is no turning back. At least ten people in a crowded theater will join in. Everyone gets an itchy scratch in their throat and they want to clear it and so they cough. That is my coworker Leena, every single day. Hack, hack, hack.

  I shake my head. I need to be more positive about my work. Especially since I’m about to become a manager, with my own team! I’m so excited. We haven’t talked about my promotion since last Saturday over breakfast. Most of our conversations have consisted of Jack giving me tidbits about Vintage Estates going down the hole. Thanks to Sherry. I knew she was trouble when I first laid eyes upon her. It was almost like Taylor Swift was singing in my ear. Except now I know, not from whispers but from facts that she has flown to different places with a pocket full of cash. Or rather a fat bank account. Money that doesn’t belong to her. I’m a finance person, I always have been, and this type of shady behavior digs into me deeper then I could possibly ever think to experience.

  Jack knows I work for a finance company and that’s about it. I guess it’s because we are too busy getting to know each other in other ways. We haven’t shared the mundane information, the daily info. Our texts have been more flirty than informative, to say the least.

  I let out a huge sigh. I am overjoyed to be away from my desk and dealing with real dry air from the airplane. As soon as my feet make touchdown on the linoleum floor, the moisture is back. Even though it’s been several years since no ticket holders could come past the security gates, it does not fail for me to glance around in hopes of seeing any familiar faces waiting for me. Then I do a quick snap back into reality because of course whoever is picking me up from the airport, is not waiting for me in the secure area. No, the only place they could be is the luggage area, which is always past the security gates.

  I stride towards the escalators and move to the left, I’m not interested in standing in slow motion. I stop in my tracks. My skin tingles all over. My stomach is heavy. I grab onto the rail to steady myself. I cannot believe the sight before me. My entire family is standing in a horizontal line dressed like elves. My mom, dad, Megan, Brian, Aurora, Winter, River, and even Luke. My chest gets tight. I can’t breathe. All the other passengers are moving forward and down the stairs, and I’m stuck in disbelief. My family has picked me up before wearing wacky Christmas sweaters. But this…this is beyond imaginable. They are all fitted in green or red tops with coordinating tights and shoes. River and Winter appear to have elf ears as well. I flitter my eyes and then close them. I must be imagining this. I shake my head and pop my eyes back open.

  “Ho ho ho, Lauren come on down!” Luke shouts and leans back, patting his stomach. My mom shakes her head at him, probably telling him only Santa would say ho ho ho. She is a stickler for rules in regards t
o character roles. I take in a deep breath and forge my way down the stairs. I can handle this. I most likely do not know anyone here at the airport so this is just a tiny bit of embarrassment. The faster I get to them the faster I can get all of us out of here and into the car out of eyesight. I’m charging full speed ahead down the stairs, I’m careful and make sure not to take more than one at a time. My stride is narrow and my legs aren’t long enough. I would easily go kerplunk and chip a tooth or something awful like that.

  Besides the silly grin, my mom has a suspicious look in her eyes and her hand is holding something. It’s a gift bag. I pause for a moment trying to decide what is in the bag. My heart patters faster. I pick up my speed again and finally make it down the roller coaster height of four sets of stairs. Talk about a workout. Austin is by no means a big airport, but it does seem to take forever to get down from the second floor.

  “Merry Christmas!” I rush up to my family and they enclose me in their arms. I’m going to ignore the bag. If I pretend it isn’t there, maybe my mom will forget as well.

  “How was your flight, honey?” My mom rubs my arm.

  “Great, let’s go, I’ll tell you all about it in the car.” I cock my head towards the exit.

  “We have to get your bag, you checked one, right?” My dad studies me.

  “Oh yes, let’s go look for it.” I peer over them towards the luggage carousal.

  “Did you remember to put your red bow on the luggage handle?” My mom raises an eyebrow at me.

  “Yes of course.” Shiat. I know what’s coming. My shoulders slump. I bite my inner cheek.

  “Great, we will wait for you at the luggage carousal, here is a little early Christmas present for you.” My mom beams at me as she hands me the green gift bag with bright-red straps.