by Rebel Hart
“No, we wouldn’t” I shot back. “These kinds of get-togethers are the very thing that inspired the creation of my blog to begin with.”
A short bit later, everything was looking picturesque and perfect. More up to NonPareil standards. The longer I looked at it all, the more convinced I was that this if anything would make Chris fall in love with Christmas.
“Before we get started, I guess I should introduce you to everyone. This is Margo,” I pointed to my sister, leaning against a kitchen counter while fervently sipping wine, as if her life depended on it. She offered a half smile and tipped her glass in Chris’s direction.
“She’s a lawyer, and so is her husband, Tom. And the lady you see over there, stuffing her face,” I pointed to Payton who had her butt sticking out of the fridge as she plopped a sausage ball into her mouth.
“Oh, hey. What’s up?” she answered, her mouth full of food.
“And I’m Kathy,” my mom popped up with a bright smile. “You must be Chris. My goodness, I knew you’d be handsome. But I don’t think anything could have prepared me for this.” She plopped her hands on both of his shoulders, shamelessly feeling down his biceps.
“Okay, Mom!” I laughed nervously, shuffling her onto something else. “That’s quite enough of that. As for you,” I turned back to Chris. “You can put your coat right over there.”
He headed for the coat rack and shedded a few layers. I tried not to notice his perfectly chiseled muscles straining against his very expensive looking button up.
“You’ll want an apron so you don’t ruin your clothes. I need one anyway, so I’ll grab an extra.”
I darted off into the closet and returned a few minutes later with two ruffled aprons, decked out with bells and lace and cut outs of gingerbread men and holly leaves. “Sorry we don’t have anything more masculine,” I chuckled, holding one out to him. “But it’s better than getting covered in glue and glitter.”
He cringed at the sight of the frilly frock in his hand and looked back to me. “Are you sure about that?”
“Just put it on,” I huffed.
I hadn’t realized just how ridiculous it would look on his massive body until he came back around, the apron dwarfed against his sculpted chest.
Payton burst into laughter. Margo was only slightly more successful in hiding her laugh, while Mom scowled at them both, growling warnings under her breath. It’s rude to make fun of people.
He had little time to be too embarrassed about it because the crafting quickly commenced. We strung popcorn and dried fruit onto string with needles, and baked more seasonings to fill the air with all the seasonal scents. After the potpourri and garlands, we were onto painting ornaments. It was hard to read how Chris was taking it all as he dutifully obeyed my every command, but I couldn’t imagine anyone not loving it all as much as I did.
He barely said anything at all until one point when I was instructing everyone at the table how to shift their bodies or hands, rearranging the supplies in front of them to perfection, in preparation for another slew of photos.
“Are you always so particular?” he grumbled.
“Yes,” my sisters and mom answered in unison.
“Don’t hate me because I know how to take a good photo,” I snipped. “When these are trending on Pinterest, you’ll thank me.”
“Oh yes,” Margo mocked. “Because it’s always been my dream to be trending on Pinterest. And not even for my record of cases won in the courtroom, but for Christmas crafting.”
“Both are important, if you ask me,” I told her.
When it came time for us to leave, Chris and I walked over to the coat rack. Our hands brushed as we both reached for our jackets, and I could have swore the touch lingered longer than it should have. But I blushed and quickly jerked away. He offered to slide my jacket over my arms for me, but I awkwardly refused.
I was slightly surprised and disappointed that he didn’t divulge his change of heart the moment we stepped into the cab home. I was still reeling with adrenaline from how great the night went. I was positive he had to feel the same.
A full seven minutes into the ride, I couldn’t take it anymore. “So? Thoughts? I’m dying to know how you feel about everything now.”
His face was blank for a moment before contorting into the most forced, unnatural smile I had ever seen on anyone in my life. “Oh...I’m...converted. One hundred percent. Just like you thought would happen. You were right all along. Christmas truly is...the greatest holiday in the world and so…so...:”
“Magical?”
“That’s it,” he nodded slowly, pursing his lips. “Totally. Magical.”
I flashed a reluctant grin, studying him carefully. “You’re lying, aren’t you?”
“No, not at all,” he defended weakly.
“Fine,” I swished my hair, trying to hide how offended I was. “Don’t worry. I have more tricks up my sleeve. This was just the beginning.”
He groaned and raked his hands down his face. “Remind me again why you can’t just lie? I really, really don’t have time for building snowmen or iceskating or mall Santas or whatever else it is you have planned to torture me.”
“Ice skating!” I shrieked, whipping out my phone to take a note. “I hadn’t thought of that, but I’m adding it to my list. Great idea!”
He sighed and stared out his window. I knew he was irritated, but there was something darker lurking underneath his expression. Something that made me think of the odd sales and other changes happening at Palmers.
“The stores are in trouble, aren’t they?” I dared to ask.
His eyes met mine with a grave seriousness. “It’s nothing I can’t fix, I hope. But all the more reason why my time is so precious right now.”
I felt bad for him at that moment. I knew how much I loved Palmers, and no matter how cold and calloused he tried to appear...surely a love for his family business was strong. It had to be heartbreaking and scary to see it in jeopardy.
I made a bold move and reached across the seat to squeeze his hand. “I know you think this is a waste of time. But my readers can tell when I’m being disingenuous. A fake puff piece from me wouldn’t help either of us. However, if I’m right...if I can really turn you on to Christmas...it might do more than just be good press. You might just be inspired to do what it takes to save the stores.”
He seemed slightly moved, but also surprised, by my moment of sweetness. I kind of was too. Which was why I jerked my hand back so suddenly and changed tactics.
“Anyway, fake advertising and lies for money are all part of the corruption that has been eating away at the spirit of Christmas for years. It goes against the mission of my publication to contribute to that.”
“If I may make an observation,” he said slowly as the cab pulled up in front of my apartment. “Did you ever think the exaggerated, unrealistic perfectionism that comes out in so many people this time of year is part of what eats away at the Christmas spirit too?”
I blinked cluelessly. “What are you talking about?”
“You ordering your family around, staring at your phone screen more than them, arranging everything to look just right...It’s an awful lot of energy just for superficial appearances. And it’s a mighty big distraction from what seems like the most important part...Like, you know, being present and spending time with your family.”
My jaw dropped, and I was very close to going off. “Are you accusing me of…”
“Goodnight, Hazel,” he smirked, reaching across me to open my cab door.
“You’re just going to say all that and then shove me out of the car?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he paused. “Did you want to come back to my place?”
It was a sarcastic offer, meant to get under my skin...and it worked. In fact, if his entire goal was to piss me off...that had worked too.
I stormed out of the backseat and stood on the sidewalk, swishing my scarf back over my shoulder. “I’m not done with you yet, Chris Palmer.”
But everything he said ate at me for the rest of the night. I had plenty of reasons to despise Chris, but putting a damper on my family’s annual crafting night had to be near the top of the list.
8
Chris
Once I got back to my place, I couldn’t wait to crack open a beer and relax. That tiny frilly apron mixed with Hazel and her family and all that fucking glitter and popcorn and Christmas music...it was nauseating. My head was still spinning as I plopped down on the couch, drink in hand.
I’m not done with you yet, Chris Palmer. The line replayed in my head, and I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. Hazel Malone was nothing if not spunky and full of passion...maybe a little too much passion. But then again what was too much? I figured I was the wrong person to ask.
But I was feeling more conflicted than ever on the whole predicament of Christmas. She wasn’t going to quit until I found at least something I loved about it, if not the whole damn thing. And appeasing her was proving to be harder than I thought. I had lied in business meetings or spun the truth to make investors happy. Why was lying to her so impossible?
The only way out of this time suck, responsible for more recent headaches than I could count...and we were only just getting started, was to make my peace with the blasted holiday. I doubted crafting nights or much of anything else Hazel had up her sleeves was going to do the trick. Then again, I seemed to be great at underestimating just how far she’d go with anything.
I sat and looked back over my childhood and everything after that. There was no point when I could remember Christmas feeling particularly magical or special to me. For that matter, there wasn’t a point when it stopped being that way either. It was just one long string of apathy, year after year.
Our family always celebrated the same way - with my mom’s giant Christmas gala. Their big annual party, which was more like a ball, gave Dad a chance to show his appreciation to those with interests in the department stores around the country, and to schmooze with potential investors or future shareholders. It was just another means of business networking for him, and ever since I was a boy...he used it as an opportunity to train me in his ways.
Mom was active in a lot of charities and used the party to boost the family’s image along with raising money for causes...Causes that didn’t seem important to her as much as they seemed to play an important role in her reputation. Then there was my sister, Ann, who decided she wanted to be a lawyer at age five. She first used the parties to make contacts that could help her get into the best schools, then she used them to help her fish for big cases, clients, and contracts.
The whole thing was one big business transaction more than an actual holiday get together, but I never remembered having ill feelings towards it. It was just a thing that happened every year, and even when I didn’t feel like going - It was just a few hours in a tux with a drink and a smile. Nothing to go to pieces about.
So then why exactly had the Christmas contagion never caught on with me even a little bit? I considered that year’s plans...which would be both the usual Christmas ball and a celebration of my father’s retirement. But what about after that?
We never really did the traditional tree and presents. Mom had plenty of giant trees brought into the house for the party, but we never had a “family” tree with handmade ornaments. That wouldn’t be up to her standards and taste. Our presents to each other were usually given in passing, and consisted of things like gift cards, trip packages, cars, and money.
It started eating at me so much that I decided to call my sister just to prove how little of an issue I really had with the holidays. I had a plan that might just get me off the hook with Hazel after all.
“Ann Palmer speaking,” she picked up, obviously not realizing it was me.
“Ann, it’s me.”
“Oh...hey,” she replied with a tone that told me if she had known it was me, she probably wouldn’t have picked up. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just...you know, calling to catch up. How’s Joey?”
“Busy. Like me. So...wait, you’re just calling to chat?”
“Pretty much,” I said, taking another sip of my beer.
“And...you’re sure everything’s okay?”
“Yes,” I grumbled. “Everything is just fine. How are the kids? Cassie is...what, eight now?”
“Nine,” she sighed. “I’m fine. Joey is fine. The kids are fine. Just all very busy, like I said. I don’t really have time for catching up right now. Call my assistant and set up a lunch. I may not have any time until after the holidays, but…”
“That is one thing I wanted to talk to you about,” I interjected. “The holidays. Have you given any thought to our family plans this year?”
She was quiet for a moment. “Have I given it any thought? What the hell do you mean?”
“I was just thinking...we hadn’t really talked about getting together for Christmas or anything.”
“Are you daft!?” she laughed dryly. “Did you not get mom’s invite to the gala?”
“No, no. I know there’s the gala. But that’s such a big affair with all those people we barely know, and you and Joey never bring the kids. I don’t even know the last time I actually saw my niece and nephew...or had a chance to sit in a room with any of you and just talk.”
“Do you need someone to talk to? I have a good number for a therapist I’ll send you.”
“Ann, Jesus...No, I don’t need someone to talk to. God dammit, I’m trying to…,” I stopped and took a deep breath to calm down. “I’m just trying to set up something with just our family for Christmas. Is that so much to ask?”
“But we never…”
“I know we never. That’s what I’m trying to fix.”
“Look, Chris. I expected weird calls like this from Dad, now that he’s retired and all. But you have a floundering chain of department stores to save. It’s hardly a time to be concerned with family bonding time.”
Actually, thanks to Hazel, family bonding time apparently had to be my concern if I was ever going to free myself from her grip, get the good press we needed, and move the hell on to fixing everything else going wrong with the company.
“Call my assistant to set up that lunch for the new year,” she continued. “And I’ll see you at the gala, okay? Gotta go.”
Click. It was hardly a helpful conversation. I might have even gone so far to ask her how she felt about the holidays, or if she remembered something different than me from when we were growing up. But there obviously wasn’t time for that.
I chugged back the rest of my beer and opened another. So what if my family was a little disconnected? I never would have even noticed or cared if Hazel wasn’t up my ass about all of this. And whatever problems I had in my life were no worse than her obsession with making everything perfect.
I got curious and opened up my laptop to take a look at this infamous blog of hers, NonPareil. I expected cheesy pictures of gingerbread cookies and poinsettias to pop up on the screen.
I was slightly impressed and surprised by what actually came up though...a crisp, clever website design with modern looking, high quality photos. It wasn’t the amateur job I expected. I stared for a long time at the photo featured of her in the about section. Her with a (non-frilly) apron, standing behind a crafting table with a beautifully cut paper chain. Her red hair pulled into the usual high-pony with her adorable little freckles on the tip of her nose, and that smile…
Okay, so the girl was cute. There was no denying that. And maybe it was just especially easy to notice in a photo because she wasn’t yammering on about having her way and trying to control everything.
I slammed the laptop shut, determined to move on. If I couldn’t fake it, couldn’t lie, and couldn’t t
herapy me or my sister into understanding my problem...I would just be subjected to more of her torture. I could only imagine what terrible thing she had in store for me next.
Then I wondered, what did someone like Hazel do in her spare time? Was every moment of November through December consumed with holiday madness? Was she always snapping pictures for her blog or taking notes for posts?
Right at that moment...what was she doing? Drinking a beer at home alone like me?
I shook my head and raked my hands down my face. What did I even care?
I opened the laptop back up and pulled up the invite for the family Christmas gala. It boasted that this would be their biggest one yet, though I was pretty sure they had been saying that for ten years straight. To be fair, each one was somehow even bigger than the last...but any bigger and I’d have to anticipate a whole slew of live swans and a performance by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. A nativity scene complete with live animals, maybe. I didn’t put anything past the lengths my mother would go to impress people.
With another beer down, and no plans to speak of, I resided to crashing early. There was plenty of work to do over the weekend, including a number of meetings where I tried to convince wealthy acquaintances to buy into Palmers...aka, loan us money and put me one step closer to maybe one day selling the whole damn chain. It wasn’t what my father wanted, and it wasn’t what my grandfather would have wanted. But...the store and the market just weren’t what they used to be.
I climbed into bed and sank back against the pillow, remembering just how much I loved my expensive designer sheets. Those I loved. Christmas? Well, it certainly didn’t wrap me up in luxury night after night. But was that really the kind of fulfilling love Hazel had for it?
I realized I was slightly buzzed from guzzling down two drinks so fast on an empty stomach. That coupled with my exhaustion and so much Hazel left my mind drifting to places it didn’t need to go...Like how sexy she would look in that ponytail, apron, and her glasses with nothing else on.