Cupid's Holiday Trilogy

by Geeta Kakade

  Christy told herself she didn’t mind that O’Keefe kept away from the kitchen unless there were other people around. Ignoring the pain in her heart that pointed out she did mind, she told herself that in one more week he would be gone.

  Frank told everyone who would listen the story of the origin of Halloween…that is was the night ghosts and ghouls were supposed to roam the earth and people had dressed up in costumes to avoid them. When Pope Gregory had designated November 1st as the day to honor saints and martyrs, the day before had been given the name All Hallows Eve and later it became Halloween.

  Frank’s excitement brought a smile to everyone’s lips these days. Gone was the quiet sullen boy who had avoided them. Moira told Christy she was so thankful for the change in him.

  Christy was trying on the witch’s costume she’d created out of one of the black dresses, with Moira adjusting the hemline when the doorbell rang.

  “Who can that be?” said Moira her mouth full of pins

  “I’ll go down,” said Christy. “I won’t be long”.

  Holding her voluminous skirt up with one hand she went carefully down the stairs.

  Opening the front door, her mouth fell open.

  “Mother!”

  Ruth Hathaway had made it clear that she had to be called Mother and nothing else a very long time ago. What on earth was she doing here?

  “Christy darling.” The wintry tones, the flare of the nostrils conveyed her mother’s acute displeasure at being there.

  “Come in.”

  She crossed the threshold letting her sable stole slip off one elegant shoulder.

  Christy kissed her dutifully and stared at her again.

  “What are you doing here?”

  What on earth could have possibly brought her mother to Silver Lake City?

  “The lawyer told me you were here and I had to see if I could talk some sense into you.”

  “Come sit down,” Christy led the way into the living room feeling weak in the knees already. All the anger she’d harbored against her since her birthday seemed not to matter anymore. Not since the day she had admitted to herself that she loved O’Keefe.

  “Would you like some tea or coffee?”

  “No thank you. I just want to talk to you.”

  Her mother’s gaze skimmed the living room. Christy interpreted her thoughts exactly as if she had voiced them. The carpet wasn’t Aubusson, the furniture wasn’t from Baker the number one manufacturer of fine furniture, and the drapes weren’t even worth talking about.

  “Why are you dressed like that?” Mother demanded.

  “I was trying on this costume for Halloween.” Her voice sounded weak.

  “I didn’t know Halloween meant so much to you.”

  “It does now,” said Christy

  Mother stared around the room again.

  “What are you doing here Christy?”

  She made the word here sound like Christy was on skid row.

  “I’m running a Bed and Breakfast, Mother.”

  Her mother’s nostrils flared again as if she could smell the sausages they’d had for breakfast and the aroma displeased her.

  “No Hathaway daughter has ever had to work for a living.”

  Christy lifted her chin. “But I’m not a Hathaway mother. I’m a Cupid and I love working for my living.”

  Her mother’s face went bright red. “That’s absolute nonsense. You belong in Beverly Hills. I’ve given you space to try your wings hoping it would bring you to your senses. It’s time for you to come home now, make a good marriage and settle down.”

  “That’s not going to happen Mother.”

  “Christy?” The break in her voice warned Christy what was coming next. The tears, the recriminations, the guilt trip.

  Christy cut her off immediately. “No Mother. I don’t want to listen to you anymore. You robbed me of knowing my father; told me he was dead. I understand your not wanting to live here but not your lying to me about him.”

  Mother’s face turned red.

  “I did what was best for you and I will not listen to this nonsense. Robbed you indeed. You’ve had one of the most privileged upbringings in the world.” Mother stood, adjusted her stole and said. “This is my ultimatum. Come home with me or I’ll disinherit you. You have till this evening to think about it. I’ll be back at six and I expect you to have your things packed and ready.”

  She was gone before Christy could come up with one of the suitable answers she had been rehearsing for a moment like this ever since she’d got here. The front door shut behind Mother and Christy sank into her chair. She dropped her face in her hands to cool it and then rubbed her forehead. She felt exactly like she had when Mother had said she was announcing Christy’s engagement to Dane Florsheim Jr. when Christy, twenty one, had returned from college for Christmas.

  Helpless, confused, hopeless.

  Never did the right words come out at the right time. Never.

  Christy was in her bedroom looking at her reflection in the mirror, when the doorbell rang that evening. She had put on a turquoise blue dress from the Beverly Hills collection, hoping it would prove to Mother she wasn’t living in the back of beyond.

  “You are not the same person who ran away from home,” she told her reflection. “You know what you want and it’s time to stand up for it.”

  Slipping her feet into black heels she went downstairs hoping Moira had seated Mother in the living room and offered her the champagne Christy had chilled that afternoon.

  She got her first surprise on the landing. Toby was at the front door, his back to her, dressed in black pants and a coat with tails.

  “Good evening Madam,” he was saying in a strange voice. Lofty was the only adjective Christy could think of. “May I take your coat?”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Mr. Graves the butler Madam. This way if you please.”

  Christy wanted to pinch herself. She had a butler now? Toby must watch Downton Abbey. The stiff back, the tilt of his head was perfect. She closed her mouth and forced herself to go down the rest of the stairs

  “Mother,” Christy kissed the air beside her parent’s cheek. “You look nice.”

  Mother was in designer black and white, a triple row of pearls around her neck.

  “The champagne’s ready Madam. May I pour?” Toby asked as Moira came into the room with a silver tray that held a silver ice bucket and the bottle of champagne.

  Christy stared at Moira. She was in a black dress, a starched frilly apron and a little starched cap. Her beautiful black hair was in a bun. Another Downton Abbey fan?

  Had they all gone mad or was she dreaming?

  “I’m sorry I’m late honey. Forgive me.”

  If she wasn’t sitting Christy would have fallen down. O’Keefe had entered the room in an evening jacket, dress pants, white shirt and black shoes she could see her face in if she wanted to. His hair was slicked back and he had shaved. He could have stepped out of The Bachelor or some show like that.

  He kissed Christy full on her open mouth. “You look stunning darling.” He turned to her mother. In a daze Christy heard him say, “Mrs. Hathaway, I’m Mark O’Keefe.”

  Taking a champagne flute from the tray he handed it to her mother and then after giving Christy one with a wink, he took the last glass and raised it. “To family,” he said.

  Christy almost choked on the sip she took but inside some of the cold was ebbing. She wasn’t alone. She got the message loud and clear.

  “We do hope you’ll stay for dinner.” O’Keefe said while Christy coughed. “Christy’s asked the chef to make your favorite dinner. Roast beef.”

  She hadn’t left her room all afternoon. And who was the chef in this charade? Frank?

  “Who are you?” Ruth Hathaway sounded as if he were a specimen under a microscope except she hadn’t said, “What are you?”

  “I’m Christy’s friend,” Mark said, his tone and the look he shot her implying they were much more than that
.

  “Where have I heard the name O’Keefe before?”

  He smiled, “Maybe you’re thinking of General O’Keefe, my uncle. He’s been in the news lately about his new appointment in the Pentagon. Or you might be thinking of the O’Keefe’s of Chicago. The ones who are in manufacturing.”

  One penciled brow went up. “Do you know the O’Keefe’s of Chicago?”

  “My father’s side of the family,” said Mark.

  Christy took another sip of champagne hoping it would drown her surprise. Mark name dropping, Mark keeping up with the best of them in her mother’s circle of ‘you’re nobody if you’re not well connected.’

  “What is it you do?” Mother wasn’t done grilling him.

  “I’m on vacation here. “ His tone was firm and Christy knew from past experience he wouldn’t share anything more with her mother.

  “Mother would you like some more champagne? Are you hungry? Dinner’s ready if you’d like to eat now.”

  “I won’t be staying for dinner.” Mother said in a tone from the Tundra. “I would like to talk to you in private Christy.”

  “Of course.” Mark went toward the kitchen, glass in hand, giving Christy’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as he passed her chair.

  “Well!” said Mother. “Are your things packed?”

  This had always been her trouble with Mother. She gave you a choice and before you could tell her what your decision was, she made it for you. She was taking it for granted Christy was leaving with her.

  Christy put her champagne glass down. She’d have to spell her message out by stating it clearly. “No Mother. I won’t be coming with you. I have a life here and it’s one I enjoy. You lied to me for so many years about Daddy. You still have no idea of how much pain you’ve caused me but then you’ve always controlled everyone haven’t you Mother? But you couldn’t control Daddy and you certainly can’t control me anymore.”

  Mother stood up her nose aquiver, her face red, her tone glacial. “Well! I won’t ask you again Christy. This is your last chance. Will you come home with me?”

  “And I won’t tell you again Mother,” Christy said, matching her mother’s tone. “My answer is no.”

  “You won’t get a penny from me. You are a disgrace to the Hathaway name and you’ll end up like your father.”

  “But my name isn’t Hathaway. Its Christy Cupid, so you don’t have to worry about your name being disgraced Mother. I don’t want your money but I hope you will come back and visit me. My father was a talented artist who made the choices he did to be faithful to who he was and what he wanted out of life. I hope I am strong enough to be like him. I’m happier now than I’ve been in a long while and I intend to make a life for myself here.”

  “Hmph!” The snort her mother made sounded like it came from a thoroughbred about to throw its rider.

  Her mother turned to the door and Toby was there waiting with her coat. He opened the door, “Goodnight, Madam!”

  Christy’s head sank into her hands after her mother left. For once she’d found the right words at the right time. Or had she?

  Courage drained from her. She felt so tired suddenly and the frustration that always resulted with dealing with her Mother was back.

  “We’ll be your family.” Toby’s voice made her raise her head. “Don’t be sad.”

  They all stood there…Toby, Moira and Mark.

  Christy smiled through the tears in her eyes. “You didn’t have to dress up for me. What got into you all?”

  Mother wouldn’t have been impressed no matter what.

  “We did it because we wanted to make you proud,” said Moira. “I found the things in the attic for Tony and me and Mr. O’Keefe’s suit just needed ironing. You’ve helped us so much we couldn’t let you down. Mr. O’Keefe told us how grand your life was before you came here and we wanted to show your Mother you had servants and friends here too.”

  She looked at Toby, Moira and Mark and knew she’d done the right thing.

  “You are my family and this is my home. I’m lucky to have you all in my life and I know I belong here. Thank you very much for everything you did for me tonight.”

  She put her hands up for a group hug noticing Mark didn’t join in.

  “Let’s eat before the dinner gets cold,” said Moira.

  “Where are the Kemps and Frank?” asked Christy.

  “They were going to sit with Frank till he finished his homework and then they were all going out for ice cream.”

  “What about Miss Bellinger?”

  “She’s been in her room since four. Said she didn’t want any dinner as she wasn’t feeling well.”

  Christy changed her clothes after dinner and picked up her jacket. She wanted some fresh air. Hopefully the light breeze from the lake would blow away the thoughts her mother had left her with. Did all children feel this guilt when they struck out on their own or was it just her?

  She pushed her hands into her pockets. The cold inside came from her encounter with Mother.

  “Christy.”

  She stopped and turned. It was Mark back in jeans and sweatshirt.

  “May I walk with you?”

  She nodded.

  “You were great this evening,” he said.

  Meeting Ruth Hathaway, listening to what Christy had said to her had convinced him Christy had known nothing of Jake except what she’d been told. She hadn’t lied about a thing.

  “Thanks for everything you did and said to her.” Christy said.

  “It was nothing.”

  His tone had that rough edge again and Christy knew he had done it for Jake, not for her.

  She walked in silence.

  “Christy,” his hand on her arm stopped her and she turned to him. “Don’t worry about your mother. She’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not worrying about her.” Christy said. “She’s one of those people who only sees one point of view. Hers.”

  “She didn’t mean what she said about the money either. She’ll come around.”

  “I don’t care about the money. All I want is a chance to make my own.”

  “Then what’s worrying you?”

  “It’s what she did to Daddy and me,” Christy’s voice broke. “She literally robbed us of our right to know each other.”

  She’d thought she’d shed all the tears she had in her but these came hot and fast. Before she knew it she was against his chest and he was cradling her head with one hand as he kissed the top of her hair.

  “Don’t worry about it. I think wherever he is, Jake knows and understands. He would be so happy to know you intend living here.”

  “Thank you Mark.”

  She lifted her face to him as she said the words and he dropped a light kiss on her lips. The next instant they both caught fire from the contact. Christy didn’t know when her hands slipped under his sweater but whenever he lifted his head she increased the pressure on his back urging him to continue what he was doing so well.

  It was Mark’s cell phone that interrupted them. The one ring startled them both and he pulled it out of his back pocket and looked at the text. “I have to go.”

  She knew the drill. “Be careful,” she said recalling with fear the memory of the last time he had received a call like this one.

  She couldn’t bear the thought of him being in danger of any kind.

  “How long is it going to take him to propose to her Ma? I asked your father for permission to court you and made it clear I intended marriage the day after I met you,” said Phillip. “We don’t even know what his intentions are. All this blow hot, blow cold stuff is foreign to me.”

  “He loves her,” said Agnes. “We need to be patient Pa.”

  “I was told I had till Halloween for my first attempt to set things right between a couple. We have to go back at midnight on Halloween.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Agnes. “Everything’s going well.”

  Phillip opened his mouth to argue then shut it. He had never seen Agnes like this.
She was totally in charge, knew exactly what to do next.

  He was afraid he hadn’t done as much as he should have to bring Christy and Mark together.

  Withdrawing to his corner he meditated on what he could do next.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Mark returned at dawn slipping silently into his apartment.

  HQ had intercepted and decoded a message that had mentioned the house next door. Whatever was supposed to happen, Intelligence had gathered, would take place on Halloween. The watch was going to be doubled and everyone had to be extra vigilant.

  His orders had come through an hour ago. More emphasis was being placed on extra vigilance in this last week but he would be doing the same thing he was doing now. Keeping an eye on the place.

  His mind was on Christy as he stripped, pulled on a pair of shorts and lay down. He wanted to go into the house and get into bed with her, finish what they had started earlier.

  He knew he couldn’t do that. First and foremost was his job and he never allowed anything to distract him while he was on duty.

  Second was the fact she had just kissed him out of gratitude and he didn’t want gratitude.

  As they got everything ready for the party, Christy became aware that Mark was avoiding her. He didn’t come into the house and when they met outside there was always someone around. Surprised at first, she quickly withdrew into her shell. He’d kissed her to console her and a few moments’ passion didn’t translate into love.

  Well, she didn’t care, Christy told herself. If the moment had meant nothing to him she would act as if it didn’t matter to her either.

  She hung up streamers with Frank, draped the black curtains over the windows with Moira and got ready for the party as if she didn’t have a care in the world. When she wasn’t doing party prep or talking to her guests in the evenings she escaped to the attic, going through the old trunks, making an inventory of everything there. She had been through three of them and had one left to go through and then she would sort the things in the boxes. The attic was as clean as the rest of the house. She’d even done the windows so they sparkled. The only area that was still dusty was the one where all the trunks and boxes were piled up and she could only clean that up after she had gone through everything.