by Fifi Flowers
Within a couple of hours of going over the contracts, the father and son were all for the deal we had worked up. The kid apparently was very familiar with Zach and his movies and was dying to have him make his screenplay a reality. They got more excited as we outlined how the filming would proceed once the funding came in, where it would take place if all went according to Zach’s tentative schedule. It was an easy meeting that allowed me extra time to meet up with my buddy Gram at one of his favorite pastry spots.
Seeing Gram you’d never think he was obsessed with sweet treats, but he was crazy about them—wishing that he was a pastry chef rather than a financial whiz in his family’s corporation. He has been very beneficial to my bank account as well as with several of my client’s finances, he’s brilliant with money. Not to mention, if I told you he was a personal fitness trainer you wouldn’t bat an eyelash, well you may in his direction to gain his attention. Another reason that you’d think that he would avoid baked goods in lieu of healthy snacks. Seeing him waving me over, I joined him at a table where he had two cups, creamer, sugar and a carafe of piping hot coffee along with pastry that had me nearly stumbling. Gingerbread cookies, my least favorite pastry and especially at this time of year.
“You’ve got to try these. They are like nothing you have ever tasted before.” Those were the first words out of his mouth and they had me wanting to call him a liar or tell him that he had no idea what he was talking about, I’d had the best seven years ago. They had me thinking again that maybe it was another sign that I was moving too fast. Ha!
“Do you mind if I order something else?”
And four, three, two, one…
“Oh shit! How fucking stupid of me. I’m so sorry, Nick. What was I thinking? Apparently I wasn’t. Okay, never mind what I last said. Take a look at the menu,” he said to me while waving a server over to package up the holiday men for him, and asking them to bring us some other pastry.
That was the start to our meet up which progressed into a nice afternoon and ended with him taking me to the airport, of which I was thankful. Had I been flying out of the same airport I would’ve found a locker to store my bags, instead I had the burden of carrying my shit around. I was happy to stow it above my seat and head to my next destination. And while on my journey I spotted a rather attractive woman with jet black hair smiling at me curbside and then lo and behold she parked herself across the aisle and next to the window from me. A plus in her favor, she was the total opposite of my ski bunny, no reminder and yet I did an instant comparison even though obviously nothing was going to happen more than a few glances on the plane. No mile high club.
However, on firm land, checked into my hotel, and with luggage stored away in my room, I found myself sitting a few tables away from the same woman. Was she a sign or just an opportunity I wondered as she smiled and raised her glass in my direction. I wasn’t sure of the answer as I waited to see if anyone was joining her for dinner. When no one arrived by dessert time, I asked my waiter to inquire if the lady would care to join me at my table. With a nod of her head, she stood and made her way over in a dress that hugged her body and showed off her assets. Seated, we discussed our meals and ordered dessert and more drinks. She, like me, was in town for business, so of course our professions were a big topic of discussion as well. Things were going along so well we hadn’t gotten to the part where we introduced ourselves, gave names. We should’ve kept it that way, because once she said her name was Vicki, I was done. And whatever spark that may have been attempting to ignite was gone, finished, finito! But I could imagine the old Pierce saying, “Perfect, you won’t forget her name as you’re railing her,” but to me it said “no entry.” She did turn out to be a nice restaurant companion for the night, but once we said our goodbyes, I hightailed it to my room.
Keeping the rest of my trip along the lines as strictly business, the next morning I met with Pierce and avoided any conversation involving any other woman but his. Which worked out perfectly for both of us since he was truly concerned about Chloe’s employment at the private club. Setting him at ease, I presented him with a contract I had put together that was sure to have management balking at every item highlighted on the page. Satisfied, Pierce and I headed into the lion’s den. Only it was more than easy, it was obvious that they were already planning to terminate her or that someone else had spoken to them, maybe even Chloe herself, but I doubted it. However it went before our arrival, my work was done, and I was on my way back to LA arriving in time to drop by my office.
Happy to be back in town, it appeared my timing was perfect as I learned from Lulu that Betty the ho-ho-ho decorating wizard (her words, not mine) had finished and the Christmas caper… Christmas sham (more of her words) was a go. She then went on and on about how dynamic the woman was and suggested that I send her a special thank you. I mentioned flowers and she, of course, said boring offering her own ideas that were much too intimate for someone simply decorating my house.
Turning the key in my front door, I was instantly struck with smells of Christmas followed by sights that had my mouth agape. Lulu was right a mere thank you flower bouquet was not enough, but peppermint candy striped lingerie and furry red kitten high heels were not the answer either. She did do an amazing job, every room but my gym had been transformed in some way—whether big or small—screaming Christmas. It was the kitchen that struck me, nearly bringing me to my knees, and had me relieved that I didn’t sleep with the woman I met in Chicago. Sitting on the counter were gingerbread men all decorated and smelling heavenly.
“The icing is supposed to be on the cookies,” she giggled as I dipped a finger in the sugary goodness and smeared it along her lips.
“It tastes better on you.” I pressed my lips to her to prove my point.
Deciding that I was right, she swept her own finger through the bowl and applied it to my neck where her mouth then attached itself. What I started escalated to an empty bowl and a lot of stickiness on our naked bodies. She was the best dessert I had ever tasted and the first time that I had ever really enjoyed the sixty-nine position that ensued right on the kitchen floor of my cabin. I was thankful for another day of zero-visibility on the mountain as it allowed me to spend the whole day with her. But when she insisted on baking cookies and pulled me along to a grocery store for supplies I was a bit disappointed that we had to leave the bed. Little did I know that making gingerbread men could be such an erotic culinary adventure—one that I would never forget.
Shit! There would never be a Christmas that I didn’t long for her beside me, beneath me, above me. And I was certain that I would never get over her no matter who came into my life as I eventually moved on, someday. Of course, I still had hope that a miracle would happen—maybe Santa would come through. I laughed to myself deciding to live on the wild side, biting the head off a gingerbread man that looked at me with a silly grin—similar to a face that she had insisted on painting on one of her creations once we got around to decorating.
Chapter Six
Victoria…
Letting myself into Mr. Granger’s apartment one last time, I heard a few colorful words mixed in with “Oh my God! Breathe! Oh my God!” Moving quickly, I took the last touch, a centerpiece, in to the dining room and placed it in the middle of the table. Then I followed the ranting to the kitchen and found a frantic looking Louise pacing back and forth with her hands pulling at her curly blonde locks.
“Are you alright?”
“Do I look alright? Does this look say that all is right in my fucked up world?”
Afraid to speak, I waited for more. And I knew that there would be more. There was no way she wouldn’t give me an earful. I may not understand her story as she tended to ramble, but I was certain she wasn’t through.
“No! You… you… your friend… Fuck a duck! Your chef… she walked out! What the hell am I going to do? What? Shit! Finger dial… Chinese takeout…”
“Excuse me, Louise. Could you please start at the beginning and maybe slowl
y tell me what’s wrong. Maybe in full sentences?”
With a last tug of her hair she began again and thankfully this time I caught on.
“I let her in with all her bags. She prepped the duck. She gagged. Ran to the sink. Yelled ‘fuck!’ Puked. Wiped her mouth. Grabbed her purse and coat. Said ‘sorry, everything’s on the counter,’ as she booked it to the front door.”
Well, not full complete sentences but at least I got the drift—the caterer I had recommended had left her in the loop. Looking down, I saw that there was a meal plan along with recipes amongst bags and boxes of ingredients next to the infamous duckling in need of roasting.
“I can’t do this. My expertise is all in my fingertips. As in dialing for takeout.”
She began her pacing and hair pulling again mumbling to herself before pointing her finger in my face.
“You! You can do this, Betty! You bake, therefore you cook! Yes! Yes, that’s the answer,” Louise said as she banged her head on a nearby cabinet.
I grabbed her by the shoulders and guided her to a low barstool on the opposite side of the counter before she really hurt herself.
“You’re right I can do this. Let me make a phone call. Sit tight and I’ll be right back.”
Damn! Her forehead was red from her last bump against the cabinet.
Stepping out of the kitchen, I made sure that I had free time to help the damsel in distress. I felt bad that I had recommended someone and she had failed to complete the job. So once I had my other obligations taken care of, I returned to the kitchen to find a usually boisterous secretary, but saw nothing but her blank stare.
“It’s going to all workout. It looks like everything is here for dinner. I can follow the plan and serve it—I’ve got this. Go home, kick your feet up and maybe have a drink… or two.”
My words seemed to finally reach her ears because the next thing I knew she was flying toward the front door rambling about saints… ducks… fucking unbelievable… yes, wine… big bottle.
I shook my head and laughed as I got ready to work. First, I grabbed my big tote bag and pulled out a small portable Bluetooth speaker (never leave home without it) and selected a classic Christmas playlist. Then I set about organizing my meal:
Duck and red potatoes in the oven.
Washed green beans.
Chopped items for salad.
Poured myself a glass of wine from an open bottle in the fridge.
Put together an appetizer plate of olives, smoked meat and cheese.
Cut up strawberries for a pre-made cheesecake.
While in my final preparation, humming along to one of my favorite Christmas tunes I heard the front door closing with a thud.
“Hi there.” A male voice sounded and I turned to see the backside of a man walking away—Mr. Granger I assumed.
Nice ass!
“I’m going to change clothes. I’ll be right back. My guests should be here shortly.”
I couldn’t wait to see what the front of that manly body looked like I thought as I yelled back.
“No problem. Just finishing the appetizers. Everything’s on track.”
“Great!” echoed off the walls in the distance.
Something about his voice gave me chills. Something also told me that Louise was probably pulling my leg about her boss’s appearance. Of course her laughter should’ve been my first clue. I was getting giddy thinking about seeing him.
“Give it a rest you two! Last day man, let’s hit the summit today,” Pierce yelled.
We had a hard time pulling apart, locking lips with Nick was just too good to give up. But we had agreed to ski separately for the day. He wanted to jump off the top and race down the mountain to the gondolas and then do it again. I wanted no part of that action. Give me nice wide and not too steep slopes and I was happy. So we were saying our goodbyes for the day a little too long for his pals.
“Yeah, enough playing cabin hermit. You owe me after kicking me out,” Gram spoke up, making me feel a little uncomfortable—knowing I was the cause.
“Hey! I promised you her pastry for life.”
“Damn! Those were the bomb! Best gingerbread cookies I’ve ever tasted, but you, my friend, need to leave the decorating to her. They are far more appetizing.” Gram, apparently wanted to be a pastry chef, and was particular about his sweet treats.
“Be there shortly,” Nick said as they shuffled toward the gondola line. “I’ll see you soon. Lunchtime meet me in front of the main lodge.”
“No problem. I’ll be there!”
“Great!” he said and after one more—our last kiss—he was gone.
Stop it! I told myself as the front door bell sounded.
Realizing Mr. Granger had not reappeared, I decided to let his guests into the apartment. Pulling the door completely open and stepping back, I heard footsteps to my right, and shifted my head in that direction.
“Victoria?!”
“Nick?!”
“Darling!” Mr. Granger’s mother entered looking from me to him. “Oh, good you invited your girlfriend after all.”
“Girlfriend?!”
“Yes, darling. Louise introduced us the other day when she was up on a ladder. I know I was supposed to keep hush, hush. I did promise to keep the secret.”
“Secret?!”
Stepping around his wife—I assumed—Mr. Granger’s father patted my arm softly then moved to hug Nick. “Well now that the cat’s out of the bag, my boy. What a wonderful surprise!”
“Surprise?!”
“Nick, what is with all of your one word responses?” his mother asked as she planted a kiss to each of his cheeks.
“Phyll, give the boy a break. You haven’t given him a chance to say more.”
“Oh, Will, don’t give me a bunch of guff.”
She removed her coat, handed it to Nick, and turned back to me still holding the door open. Frozen on the spot, I wasn’t sure whether to turn and run or play the part that Louise had put in motion.
“I think we need wine. Will, open a bottle. Let’s have a toast.”
Snapping out of my mini-trance, I chose to close the door and follow all of them into the kitchen. Standing just inside the space, Nick brought out four glasses while his father did the honors of opening and then pouring.
Mrs. Granger gave the toast.
“To new beginnings. To a Happy Holiday at last!”
Cheers and clinks followed. Looking over the rim of our glasses, Nick and I stared at each other oblivious to the pair standing beside us until Nick’s father cleared his throat to speak.
“I can see the chemistry here. So happy you could join us tonight, Betty. You are just what my son needs to move on.” Mr. Granger raised his glass to me.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Granger and see you again, Mrs. Granger.”
“Please call us Phyllis and Will, Betty.”
“Wait! Betty?! You’re Betty?! You’ve been in my house? In my things? My closet? Decorating? You’re not the caterer?”
“Yes, I’m Betty. Well, I’m not but that is what your assistant keeps calling me. And she caught me tonight dropping by with a last minute decoration and informed me about her bird dilemma. So I stepped in for a very pregnant caterer who apparently couldn’t stomach the smell of the duck.”
“You’re not Betty?” Phyllis looked flustered. She wasn’t alone.
“I’m trying to work this out. Mother, you met Victoria?”
“No, I met Bett… Victoria?!”
While her gaze bore into my skin, I turned to grab the appetizer platter then moved past the baffled trio out of the kitchen. Setting the tray down on his coffee-table, I flipped on the fireplace, lit the candles and returned to the kitchen—making noise to warn them of my return.
“Why don’t you all have a seat in the living room while I finish the dinner prep?”
Listening to my request, they moved into the next room and while I busied myself in the kitchen three muffled voices could be heard. What were they saying? What was
Nick saying to them? Was he telling a made-up story about Betty… me and him?
Lost in my own thoughts and multiple questions, I didn’t hear Nick enter the room.
“Victoria…”
Startled, I began to ramble like Louise’s behavior had rubbed off on me. Maybe it was being around Mr. Granger… Nick that caused one to babble.
“Listen everything is ready. Let me just get it on the table. It’s all set; plates, napkins, silverware, water goblets. I have still and sparkling water. Lots of food. There are extras. You can help yourselves to seconds, warming. Dessert is in the fridge. I’ll get out of your…”
He had moved so close to me. I closed my eyes trying to still my heartbeat.
“Where’s your plate?”
“Yes, dear, let us help you.” Phyllis was suddenly behind me.
Keeping quiet, I watched Nick opening cabinets and drawers, as he gathered a place-setting for me and moving to the dining room. Remaining in the kitchen, I gather the last serving dish and moved to joined them. Thank God another bottle of wine was opened during dinner as I became the topic of discussion, starting with his mother’s questioning words.
“So Nick tells us you are actually his Victoria. The woman he’s been…”
Bang! Her words were cut off by the sound of the front door hitting the wall and fast footsteps drawing nearer by the second. We were all quiet, waiting.
“Mommy!”
“Mommy?!” Nick repeated the sandy-blond girl’s words.
“Holy shit!” Mr. Granger… Will exclaimed.