A Shoe Addict's Christmas

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A Shoe Addict's Christmas Page 5

by Beth Harbison

“No.” He knew darn well she hadn’t met Carla. In fact, if he had been dating—and he must have been—she hadn’t met any of his dates since her mother had died four years ago. So Carla must be something special if he’d deemed her worthy to bring home.

  She looked special, in that way that men liked. Tall, incredibly thin, with really impossibly large breasts. Her glossy dark hair shone in the hall light, the chin-length bob swinging with every small movement she made.

  “Hi, Noelle,” Carla said. She had a light accent, probably southern, and drew out the name, Noeelllle. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’ve been dying to meet you.”

  “Have you?” Noelle hated herself for not having a better game face. She wanted to look friendly, or at least not hostile, but her expression felt sarcastic. She felt like a homely hulk compared to this woman. She turned to her father. “I hadn’t heard.”

  He looked rattled. “I’ve been meaning to introduce you for a while now, but the time never seemed right.”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “So,” he went on, “what are you doing here? I thought you were going down to D.C.”

  “I changed my mind. Mark was here for a while, and he had something else to do. He might come back, I don’t know.” But she did know. She knew there was no way he was coming back, even if he were being chased by rhinos.

  “Oh! Oh, okay. That’s fine, then. I just needed to pick something up, and we’ll be going back out.”

  Carla looked puzzled, and he shot her a look that she didn’t seem to understand but that Noelle knew meant shhh, I’ll explain it all to you later.

  “Are you off to Stu Freedman’s party, too?” Noelle muttered bitterly.

  “Beg your pardon?” Carla asked. Her father just looked uncomfortable.

  “Nothing. Just a joke. A lame joke.”

  Her father went upstairs—presumably to get the manufactured something he needed, leaving Noelle and Carla to stand in uncomfortable silence for a couple minutes—then, coming back down, he said, “I got it. Carla, are you ready?”

  Carla still looked confused but, to her credit, at least she knew better than to blow his whole act by straight-up saying she had no idea what was going on. “I guess I am,” she said. “Yes.” Then she turned to Noelle and took her hand in hers and said, with very kind sincerity, “It was so nice to meet you, honey. I hope I’ll see you again real soon.”

  “Thanks,” Noelle said, because she couldn’t think of anything else.

  And they were off. He didn’t tell her he wouldn’t be home—that would have been way too awkward for everyone—but she knew it. So she went upstairs, put on her flannel pajamas, washed her makeup off, and came back down to sit on the couch with a big bowl of Cap’n Crunch to watch Dick Clark ring in the new year.

  Chapter 5

  “Are you sure you won’t come?” Maura pleaded.

  They were off and running on another rewriting of history. Noelle was aware of it—she was looking right at the cloppy shoes that seemed to be magically taking her through time—but she was utterly powerless against it. She had to go along for the ride.

  “Are you sure you won’t come?”

  Guilt tightened inside Noelle. She couldn’t do this to her friend. She couldn’t do it to Maura’s parents, who had bought the extra ticket so that her daughter could take a friend along. She knew it was stupid and selfish to suggest that Maura take someone else at the last minute; she was only trying to get herself off the hook.

  Well, she’d said she’d go, and she was going to do it.

  Even though she really, really didn’t want to.

  “I’m sorry, Maura,” she said. Then, because it sounded like she was refusing, she quickly added, “Of course I’ll go. It’s just a little headache. I’ll take some Tylenol, and I’m sure I’ll be fine later.”

  “Oh, thank God!” Maura sounded genuinely relieved. “My parents would have killed me if I’d wasted that ticket!”

  For a moment, Noelle envied her the parents who might get mad. The parents who had made plans and allowed her to invite a friend along. The parents who were parents—plural—and neither of them had ever died or left. The feeling she had wasn’t just laziness about going, or a homebody’s impulse to stay in and mope; it was jealousy.

  It was mostly fear, but there was an element of jealousy. Like, if there was an emergency, that family would group together, but who would be there for her?

  Silly, she knew, but that’s how she thought.

  That night, as the small dinner-cruise ship Esworthy glided out of the dock, Noelle was very glad she was on board. This was no huge Titanic ship, rocking on the ocean (of course). It was just like an average-size restaurant with a lobby, dinner tables, elaborate restrooms, and a pretty large band on a very small stage.

  They were playing “Jingle Bells” as Noelle and company walked into the room, and she was immediately in a more festive mood. It was hard to argue with the fun of dashing through the snow, and all but impossible to ignore the forced cheer of the décor.

  The walls were a dark cream color with lots of gold touches—gilded trim, gilded paisley tapestries held back with golden ropes and tassels. Holly circled every sconce, flickering candles glittered on all the tables, and mistletoe hung strategically here and there, in places where people were likely to stop and talk.

  In the air there was a scent of fresh pine, so deliciously strong that it had to be piped in artificially. But a surprisingly balmy breeze blew in every time someone opened the door to come in from outside, and the scent of the river, along with the pine, was a heady combination.

  The view outside was even more beautiful than the one inside, if possible, and Maura and Noelle wrapped themselves in their coats and went out and sat on the bow of the boat, looking at the monuments—lit like toys in a tiny train set—as they slid past them through the dark night.

  There were a surprising number of boats on the Potomac around them, and something about that was reassuring. All the little vessels were variously lit up, and most of them were festooned with string lights—some red and green, some blue and white, a few so etched in white lights that they looked like they were covered in brilliant diamonds, reflecting in the gently moving water.

  “I know you would rather have been with Mark tonight,” Maura said. “If I had a boyfriend, I probably would have wanted to stay home and be with him, too.”

  Noelle fixed her eyes on the wide, low, brightly lit Kennedy Center in the distance, its clone shadow dancing on the river. “No,” she said. The water slapped against the hull of the boat. “I really don’t wish I were with him. He always lets me down. Tonight probably wouldn’t have been any exception.”

  “Then why didn’t you want to come?”

  Noelle’s pride wanted her to insist on her headache story, but Maura knew it wasn’t true, and Noelle had more respect for her than to continue the lie, even though the truth was so embarrassing. “I was scared.”

  “Scared of what?”

  The peace out here was incredible. It made her truth sound even stupider. “Terrorists.”

  “Oh.” Maura nodded. No questions. No mocking. “You’re probably not the only one. Actually, I can’t say it didn’t occur to me.”

  “Really?”

  “Obviously. It’s, like, all we hear about on the news anymore.” She pointed to the Washington Monument. “And we’re in about the most iconic American place possible.” She smiled. “But I feel a hundred percent safe, don’t you?”

  “I do.” Noelle smiled. She really did. This was stunningly beautiful. She’d never forget it. What a way to ring in the new year.

  “How come you stay with him?” Maura asked.

  “What?”

  “Mark,” she said. “If he always lets you down, how come you’re with him?”

  Noelle gave a short laugh. “The answer to that is even more humiliating.”

  “Come on.”

  She shrugged and thought about how to word it. “I think I stay with him because
I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Hey, I like being with you, you should, too.” Maura laughed. “But, seriously, I kind of get what you mean. It’s not quite a status thing to have a boyfriend, but it sure feels like a status thing not to.”

  “That’s it exactly,” Noelle said, feeling like Maura had just come up with one of the most profound points she’d ever heard. “Exactly.”

  “Ironic, huh?”

  “Totally. And it’s weird, because I used to totally love being alone. I loved faking sick and staying home and being alone while my dad was at work.” She felt a wave of shame as she realized she’d been trying to do the same to Maura. “And I used to love having Saturday nights to watch terrible TV, eat junk food, and have sleepovers. Then somewhere along the way everything changed and I got weird about it.”

  “Like you feel like a total loser if you’re home alone on Friday or Saturday night? Even if no one else knows?”

  “Yes.”

  “Or on New Year’s Eve?”

  They both laughed.

  “Or Valentine’s Day,” Noelle added. “Man, Valentine’s Day is the absolute worst, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll say.”

  Noelle felt warmth spread through her. “We girls should just stick together better. Make our own plans and stop feeling like we need guys so much. To hell with anyone who thinks we need guys. We don’t.”

  Maura held out her hand. “Deal.”

  Noelle shook it. “Deal.”

  “Except we kind of do.”

  “I know.” They both laughed again.

  “Now, let’s get back inside,” Maura said. “It’s almost midnight, and there were some cute guys in there.” She gave a trill of laughter.

  “Maura!”

  “I know, I know, but I could swear I saw Jake Marsden.”

  The name rang a bell, but Noelle couldn’t quite place him. “Who?” she asked.

  Maura stopped to look at her as if she were the biggest moron on the ship. “Football player? I don’t know what he plays, but he looks good in his uniform. Dark hair, blue eyes? Gorgeous smile?”

  “You’re not really ringing any bells for me.”

  “He just transferred back to Churchill from Gonzaga.”

  “Ooooh, the transfer guy.” She had seen him, but only from a distance. They said he’d gone to their middle school for a while, too, before transferring to Gonzaga, a private Catholic high school in D.C., but she didn’t really remember him from there either.

  Still, something about the name, or maybe the idea of him, rang a very distant bell with her.

  The boat banked to the left and began to turn around. Inside, people started counting backward from twenty toward midnight.

  “We have to hurry!” Maura took off like Cinderella, down the steps and into the main dining hall.

  “I’m coming,” Noelle called behind her, but she took her time. She didn’t need to be in the middle of the chaos and clapping and kissing and shaking hands with strangers. It was more fun to keep her back to the quiet outside and feel the cool wind on her cheeks and in her hair.

  As soon as the band began to play “Auld Lang Syne,” she went in. The pressure was over, and the boat was returning to its dock. Now the band would play a few more songs and people would dance.

  Maybe she’d see about this Jake Marsden guy.

  And she did, almost right away. Once she knew to look for him, it was obvious—the tall, good-looking kid, about seventeen, standing next to an older woman. Maybe his grandmother? How sweet of him, looking after the old lady. There was also a couple with them, his parents, obviously. That seemed to be about it.

  “Let’s go over there,” Maura said.

  “We can’t! It will be so obvious!”

  “I don’t care. It’s easier than trying to get near him at school—Kathy Coats is always hanging around him.”

  Noelle hung back. “Is that his girlfriend?”

  Maura snorted. “She wishes. But no, she’s not.”

  They were making their way through the crowd. The pine scent was now obscured by perfumes, colognes, lingering tobacco smoke, and alcohol breath. More than one older man leaned down a little too leeringly as Noelle excused herself trying to get past.

  Finally they made it to the other side of the room and near where Jake Marsden still stood with his group.

  “Now what?” Maura asked through her teeth.

  “I don’t know, you’re the one who led us over here!”

  “Yeah, well, now I’m the one who wants to run back because this was a stupid idea. We are so obvious.”

  Embarrassment crept up Noelle’s spine and multiplied when she met Jake’s eyes. He smiled and gave a little wave. Did he recognize her? Why would he? But she recognized him, now that she was near him. So she had to play it cool.

  She gave a little wave back.

  “What are you doing?” Maura asked in a stage whisper.

  “He waved,” Noelle returned in the same.

  “Oh my God, what are we going to do?”

  “Excuse me.” Suddenly he was there. Right there with them. Looking right down into Noelle’s face. “Don’t you go to Churchill?”

  “Yes,” she said, then, with a cool she didn’t know she possessed, put her hand out. “Noelle Carpenter.”

  “Jacob Marsden,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it awkwardly. Was it possible that he was the nervous one? “I’ve seen you around.”

  “I think I might have seen you, too,” she said.

  The music shifted from “Sunrise, Sunset” to something jazzier. She thought it was a Glenn Miller tune, a little peppier than the last one, but still a slow dance.

  Which mattered because Jake asked, “Not to be weird or anything, but do you want to dance?”

  She smiled at him, even though her heart was pounding ridiculously and she felt the warmth rising in her cheeks. “Are we old enough?” she asked, indicating the general demographic of the place.

  “Probably not,” he said. “Let’s do it anyway.”

  Noelle felt Maura push her from behind. “Go!” came in a very small hiss behind her.

  “Okay,” she said, more to Maura than to Jake, but the moment he took her in his arms, she wasn’t thinking of anyone in the entire world besides him.

  She’d never danced in this formal grown-up style before, but he led her so easily, she felt like a professional.

  “This is wonderful,” she said breathlessly, unable to keep her enthusiasm inside. It was like a dream. Like the dance scene in Beauty and the Beast or Anastasia.

  “Where have you been all night? What kind of Cinderella only shows up after midnight?”

  She laughed. “I always seem to get everything backwards.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to ask me on a date?”

  “I beg your pardon?” But she’d heard him. Hadn’t she? She’d heard him perfectly.

  “If you do things backwards, are you going to ask me on a date? Or are you more traditional than that?”

  “I’m way more traditional than that.” Where her boldness was coming from, she didn’t know. But something about him made it easy. She felt like she knew him already, even though she didn’t know him at all.

  “In that case,” he said, “I’ll ask you. What was your name again?”

  “Noelle.”

  “Oh, Noelle. Of course. I knew the face, but … Okay, Noelle. Will you go out with me on Friday night?”

  All thoughts of Mark flew out the door. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I will.”

  Chapter 6

  “That didn’t happen,” I said to Charlie, taking off the Etnies. “How did you conjure all of that up?”

  “I told you, dear, I’m your guardian angel. It’s my job to come here and remind you that you have many choices in your life, and, unfortunately, well … you keep making the choices that keep you from living the life you’re supposed to live.”

  “I am living the life I’m supposed to live!”

 
“If you say so, dear.”

  “I am!”

  “Very good.”

  “Well, what’s your life like, then? I can’t help but notice you’re here on Christmas Eve, same as me, and you didn’t want to call anyone and tell them where you were, so you must not have had the most wonderful plans tonight yourself.”

  “I think tonight’s plans are very rewarding indeed,” Charlie objected. “Not easy, heaven knows, but certainly rewarding.”

  “Those plans being…?”

  “Reforming you. So to speak. Best I can, anyway. I don’t mean to sound cross, but you are one tough nut to crack.” Charlie’s round, red face burst into a smile. Her blue eyes shone, and, honestly, if it weren’t for the dress, she could almost have passed for Santa Claus.

  That would have been a heck of a twist on a Christmas story. Santa as a sort of crazy old lady character, being both a little bit St. Nick and a lot Mrs. Claus, aka Charlie.

  There was a certain symmetry to it.

  “What are you smiling at, Nolly?”

  “Oh, nothing, I was just thinking of—wait, what did you call me?”

  “Nolly. Isn’t that right?”

  My stomach lurched. “How did you know that?”

  “It was in the notes, dear. It is your nickname, isn’t it? We’re supposed to use nicknames whenever comfortably possible so that the subject eases into trusting us.”

  “Subject? Trust? What, did you go to some sort of cult school?”

  “Of course not. It’s from”—she jabbed her finger upward as she had before—“above.”

  I sighed and pulled the Etnies off my feet. “Well, if you’re trying to gain my trust, you’re on the wrong track. You’re freaking me out. No one has called me Nolly in years.”

  “Ah, then, you see? How else could I have known it without some divine intervention?”

  It was a good question. I studied her closely to try to remember if I recognized the face as that of some sort of old friend of the family or something. Someone who would have had an in to private information like that.

  Although why anyone would be interested in having an in like that and using it, I couldn’t really imagine. I wasn’t that interesting. In fact, as Charlie herself was pointing out, I was a woman who rarely took chances, who almost never went anywhere, and who didn’t even have all that many people in her close circle.

 

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